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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26179210">Dearly (Nearly) Departed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hit_or_Mish/pseuds/Shadowling-guistical'>Shadowling-guistical (Hit_or_Mish)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dearly (Nearly) Departed [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Anime References, Basically it's a Virgil sees dead people AU and they're nightmare fuel, Body Horror, Extensive description of being in panic and fear, Familial sleepxiety - Freeform, Graphic Descriptions of Injuries, Horror movie elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Let Patton be feral 2k20, M/M, Mentions of death and causes of death, Multi, Not Always Though, Off-screen/implied death of a child, Off-screen/implied death of an LGBT character, Past Child Abuse, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Virgil and Dee are weebs because I say so, Virgil's other dad is Teagan AKA Teacher guy, future familial moceit, horror imagery, other characters make a cameo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:39:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>37,029</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26179210</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hit_or_Mish/pseuds/Shadowling-guistical</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i><b>Fear (n.)</b>: 1. Defined as an unpleasant, often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger.</i>
</p><p>  <i>Virgil Sanders, aged nine, once read this entry in the library. His only response? A brief glance at the not-quite-human-anymore wailing near a bookshelf, (-peeling skin, spindly twitching claws, crawling across carpets-) and an attempt to cover the trembling of his fingers.</i></p><p>As the years pass by, the steady thrum of fear under his skin turn into a constant, albeit annoying, companion. Virgil only got better at hiding trembling fingers and pretending these spirits didn't exist. But after meeting Declan Janus and later, Patton Hart, Virgil would come to realize that maybe, just maybe, he needed to help the dead to help the living.<br/>Or: Virgil inherits the ability to see the dead after the death of one of his fathers. A Mieruko-chan AU.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Deceit | Janus Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Sleep | Remy Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders &amp; Dr. Emile Picani, Deceit | Janus Sanders &amp; Morality | Patton Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders &amp; Sleep | Remy Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders/Original Character(s), Sleep | Remy Sanders/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dearly (Nearly) Departed [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Storytime! 2020, TSS Fanworks Collective</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>Prologue theme song</b> : <i>Propaganda!</i> by Crusher-P feat. Hatsune Miku</p><p><b>ADDITIONAL WARNING</b> :  Descriptive Gore, Car Accident Mention, Insect mention and description</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Prologue Themesong: <i>Propaganda!</i> by Crusher-P feat. Hatsune Miku</p><p><b>ADDITIONAL WARNINGS</b>: Implied carcrash, death of a loved one, implied animal death.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>I know they know we know that something isn't right </em>
</p><p>
  <em> After this my life eclipsed into fear day and night </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> ( </em> <b> <em>Propaganda</em> </b> <em> - Crusher P feat. Hatsune Miku) </em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> 2004 </span>
</p><p> </p><p>Young as he was, Virgil Sanders knew that there were just certain expectations that graveyards must meet. </p><p> </p><p>(Like the dead that resided within them staying below the earth.)  </p><p> </p><p>So the boy wordlessly squeezed his father’s hands tighter. His heterochromatic eyes were looking anywhere but forward. The nervous action had the desired effect, but probably not for the same reason his father had in mind.  He didn’t see Remy wipe the tear that rolled down his cheeks but felt himself being pulled into a hug. Immediately, Virgil melted into his hold.</p><p> </p><p>(Usually, Remy's signature aviators were perched on his nose. Today however, they were folded neatly over his pocket, putting his tired, red-rimmed eyes on display for all the world to see. Remy was never one to wear his caffeine soaked heart on his sleeve. But today, just today, perhaps he could finally let himself appear human to his young son.)</p><p> </p><p>Virgil appreciated that they were alone, finally finding a moment of peace from well-wishers and “I’m-so-sorry-for-your-loss”-ers that sometimes dropped by their home for a visit. Missy, his aunt and his dad’s sister, had just left that morning, having had to work. She had promised she would return that weekend though and even stay for the rest of the week. That would be nice...He’d love for her to make hot cocoa again. Virgil didn’t care that the weather might be too hot for cocoa. It had always been comforting for him, and he needed that right now.</p><p> </p><p>The Sidestone Cemetery was now empty, sans father and son.</p><p> </p><p>At least, Virgil had started to hope it would be soon. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey buddy… It’s okay,” Remy murmured, rubbing his son’s back, “Your dad’s got you. C’mere.”</p><p> </p><p>“I guess this is probably a lot to handle huh? Poor kid…” Teagan, Virgil’s other father, cooed sadly. Virgil’s breath caught in his throat. He was worried, Virgil could tell. Dad always did call Pa an open book. His eyes, his voice, his body language. You could immediately tell what he was thinking just by listening to him or, of course, by looking at him. </p><p> </p><p>But Virgil doesn't want to look at him. Not now. </p><p> </p><p>He wrapped his arms tighter around Remy, burying his face in his stomach. He only reached Remy’s middle, but he planted a kiss wherever he could reach. </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe it’s time to go,” Remy mused, and his husband nodded beside him.</p><p> </p><p><em> Yes, </em> <b> <em>please</em> </b> <em> … </em></p><p> </p><p>Because Pa won’t leave, and it’s making that thing following them very antsy. At least, antsier than it had been since they’d stepped into the graveyard for a visit. It was enough to send Virgil's heart into a frenzy. </p><p> </p><p>And “thing” was the only way that Virgil knew how to describe it. It wasn’t the good Thing from the TV show Pa used to watch with him, about the family with the weird names. The good Thing was their helper. Their family. Their handy (no pun intended) friend. No, this Thing was hairy and grotesque, it’s head barely tall enough to reach Remy’s waist and looked like it was moulded from modeling clay. It had more mouths than it did limbs and more eyes dangling outside its sockets than it did in— and oh oh oh <em> no </em> now it was drooling on Dad’s pants and— </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah...Poor Stormcloud, all tuckered out…” Teagan reached out a hand to brush some of Virgil’s hair out of his face. </p><p> </p><p>This finally broke every semblance of calm the child had. Virgil whined and squirmed, fat tears beginning to roll down his cheeks as he choked back a sob. Immediately, Remy hushed him once more, holding him tighter and whispering words of comfort. His father couldn’t have drawn back his hand faster if it were burnt. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay… Okay…” </p><p> </p><p>Remy kept comforting his son, his husband listlessly trailing behind him. By the time the family got to the car, Virgil had calmed down enough to finally stop hiccuping. And through the snot and tears, the only thing Virgil could think of was the sheer relief that whatever had been back there hadn’t followed them.</p><p> </p><p>Virgil was placed in the backseat with a box of tissues for him to wipe his tears with, produced from the glovebox. Remy slid in the driver’s seat and they began to drive off. Every once in a while, Remy glanced at the rearview mirror to check on Virgil. He let his son compose himself while his husband watched over them both. Virgil focused on the moist tissue in his hands, nervously twisting the edges and sometimes using it to rub his runny nose.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Virge… How do you feel about pizza tonight, bud?”</p><p> </p><p>Teagan brightened, and Virgil felt the coil of his chest loosen. Just a tad. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, that sounds like a great idea!” He sees his pa turned back again, “And that show you like with the Japanese girls will be on tonight! Ah, what was it again? Star Mariner? Galactic Boatman?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sailor Moon.” Despite himself, Virgil couldn’t help but correct him. The butchering of one of his favorite TV shows at the time had immediately made him defensive. </p><p> </p><p>His hands suddenly twitched. It was as though he had to physically restrain them from flying to his mouth. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry Virge? You were saying?” </p><p> </p><p>“O- oh… I meant… Pizza sounds nice dad… A- and um…” More fidgeting and some sniffles later, Virgil managed to add, “Can I watch Sailor Moon too? Please?”</p><p> </p><p>The car inched forward as the traffic light turned green and Remy gave a warm smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Sailor Moon and pizza. Got it.”</p><p> </p><p>He saw that in the passenger seat, Pa had a self-satisfied smile. He’d never forgotten the name of the show in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>Virgil turned his face away.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“A-a-a-a g-got</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> i-it. G-</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>go-t i-i</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>-t”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Virgil’s heart leapt so hard that he saw white. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Something was out there.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He registered hair, bones, and fingers. Things that were missing replaced by things that weren’t supposed to be there. Its body was dark, as though light itself had ripped and warped to allow it to exist. Virgil looked again and saw a writhing mass of hair and featureless bony faces masked with pale skin, all clinging to their car window like a leech. It pressed its many fingers against the glass so hard it creaked. Virgil could hear the <em> scritch scritch scritch </em> as it tried to peel the window open.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> No no no no don’t scream don’t make noises when Dad’s driving don’tscreamdon’t—   </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Virgil?”</p><p> </p><p>His head snapped forward, eyes blown wide as they met Remy’s worried ones. </p><p> </p><p>“You okay buddy?”</p><p> </p><p>And how was Virgil supposed to answer that?</p><p> </p><p>In the end, he could only manage a nod before he screwed his eyes shut. He then rubbed them hard enough that he saw bursts of white. Because that’s what happened in horror movies, right? You (<em> breathe just breathe, breathe BREATHE </em> ) looked away and the ghost disappeared? Right. So ( <em> don’t scream don’t scream don’t— </em> ) Virgil did just that. To the child’s dismay, when he opened them, <em> it </em> was still there.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Now what? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Virgil checked again, and worse still, he saw the white skin on its face stretched taut into an uncanny imitation of a smile, one that sent shivers shooting down Virgil’s spine. It was taunting. Leering. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Looking. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>And something clicked in Virgil’s head, the realization washing over him like ice-cold water.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It knows!! It knows I can see it! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Oi! There’s nothing for you here. Scram!” And just like that, the creature’s unnatural “smile” slid off its face like butter. It’s head made a clean 180-degree rotation, complete with the loud crack of bones and cartilage.</p><p> </p><p>And there was Pa, just outside their car, hovering off the ground and looking unamused. Coincidentally, their car was at another stoplight so Virgil could see everything pan out. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“G-got ee-e…?.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>.e-et…!...!! ”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Virgil could almost hear the taunt behind the tone of the unearthly garble. Like it was daring Pa to do something. </p><p> </p><p>“You heard me,” Somehow, even with no pupils, his Pa could still find a way to stare it down. “Leave.”</p><p> </p><p>That only agitated it further, and it hissed out a noise so grating that next to it, nails on a chalkboard would have sounded like Mozart. However, his Pa stood his ground (even if he was <em> technically </em> floating a foot above it). He took in a sharp inhale.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“LEAVE!”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Teagan’s sudden voice sent vibrations rattling Virgil’s bones and breath skittering out of his lungs. It was like a bolt of thunder on a clear day, cleaving through the heavens. He was sure that even his dad in the driver's seat got goosebumps. And indeed, Remy had shuddered and turned down the air conditioner a fraction of a turn. For a moment, he saw his Pa as he Is, not as he Was. Not just the scratchy beard on a square jaw and slicked-back dark hair, but also the dripping blood, painful road rash, and a crooked arm bent at an unnatural angle. </p><p> </p><p>Everything. </p><p> </p><p>(His dad hadn't allowed Virgil to visit him at the hospital morgue, but Virgil didn't need to.) </p><p> </p><p>The image lasted for half a blink and disappeared. Remy said something that Virgil couldn’t quite catch, because at that very moment, the skin on its main face ripped and tore to reveal a bloody maw. It stretched wide enough to make Virgil nauseous as it gave an inhuman shriek. </p><p> </p><p>Alas, Virgil hadn’t been able to stay to see the aftermath. The light turned green and the car moved. Virgil could only assume that his Pa was still there. Fighting? Protecting? Driving the creature away? Virgil’s guess was as good as anyone’s, though he wouldn’t put it past his Pa to do all three if it meant protecting his family. And honestly, that was probably why his Pa hadn’t left.</p><p> </p><p>All week, he had floated at the head of his casket, had lingered in their house as if nothing was different. At his service, he walked around the room full of mourners. He was even present when his body was being lowered into the earth. Virgil saw all of it and knew that his Pa had never left.</p><p> </p><p><em> There are some things, </em> Virgil thought, <em> about Teagan Hughes Sanders that not even being six feet under could change.  </em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He didn’t see his Pa when they got home.</p><p> </p><p>Not after dinner. </p><p> </p><p>Not during Sailor Moon. (And Papa <em> always </em> watched Sailor Moon with them to keep Dad company) </p><p> </p><p>Not when he went to bed.</p><p> </p><p>In fact, Virgil was starting to feel a little antsy all throughout the next morning. He was fidgeting so much that Remy had shooed him out to the backyard so that he could burn off some excess energy. </p><p> </p><p>So there Virgil was, sitting cross-legged on the porch of the Sanders' modest home. Waiting in his tire swing had gotten dull after a while, so he resigned himself to watch one of the stray cats that used to pass by. He stared as the cat tried to harmlessly bat at a swaying blade of grass.</p><p> </p><p>He gave a little exhale that sounded more like a sigh.</p><p> </p><p>It was strange. Wasn’t it good that Pa hadn’t returned? His Pa was… dead. And the dead should never return in the first place. He remembered all the horror movies he used to beg to watch on Halloween. Nothing good ever comes from Things That Stay. </p><p> </p><p>And Virgil was terrified to think about what his Pa staying would mean.</p><p> </p><p>“Virgil? You good out here bud?”</p><p> </p><p>Virgil turned around to look at his dad. Remy was leaning against the porch door, mug in hand. And hovering right behind him was-</p><p> </p><p>"Having fun, Stormcloud?" </p><p> </p><p>Papa. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m good.” </p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing?” Remy asked him and sat right next to his son, Teagan floating ever presently right behind them. Virgil instinctively looked down. </p><p> </p><p>A part of Virgil was thankful he looked fine. At least, as fine as the child could tell. He tried not to squirm under Teagan’s pupilless gaze. Virgil didn’t seem to be the only one though. The cat that had been purring not two moments ago suddenly froze. Her eyes were narrowed and bright with alarm, eyes that were trained on Remy. Or, more specifically, the specter that hovered behind him. Gone was her calm disposition, and she began spitting and hissing at Remy with ears flattened back.</p><p> </p><p>Virgil took a sharp breath, hoping that the irate cat would settle down soon. He felt her growl rumble in his chest. She seemed barely placated for now but was still as tense as a loaded spring. The moment the cat felt the pressure of the apparition grow too oppressive though, she darted across the backyard in a tortoiseshell coloured blur and disappeared into the bushes.</p><p> </p><p>Virgil let her go. Beside him, Remy took a sip of his drink (coffee as usual, by the smell of it) and stared at their little backyard. </p><p> </p><p>“You know, I don’t think Ginger’s stopped by in a while,” Remy commented, standing up a moment later. Virgil saw Pa stir, but he didn’t move from the spot he’d been hovering in. The fact was, Virgil knew what had suddenly changed the purring machine into several pounds of teeth, claws, and hisses. Animals, from what Virgil could tell, were pretty sensitive to their surroundings. Their slitted eyes sometimes lingered a bit too long on thin air or sniffed at what, to the average human, would appear to be nothing. He’d just never thought much of it. </p><p> </p><p>Until now. </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <em>Aren’t you just like me? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He’d come to that realization pretty early on—not more than a couple of days after manifesting his strange ability. At the time, he had been staring out of the window of a funeral home. His head had still felt cotton-stuffed with shock, and he’d barely registered the cat outside that was yawning and stretching in the sunlight. After a while, the cat had begun to take interest in the figure in front of him: a hovering girl with swirling, tendril-like hair dripping with blackness and even inkier fingertips crouched near him. Was she trying to see how large she could stretch open her mouth too? Was it a competition? It was at that point that Virgil had looked away.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The girl had been winning by a considerable margin. </em>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>“She’s around,” Virgil reassured his father. He spared a glance backwards, catching sight of the tortoiseshell cat staring at them with glowing eyes from the bottom of their hedge. The creature that had once been Ginger in life opened its jaw wide, small beady eyes and long thin insectoid legs poked out from its depths like a crustacean. Virgil suppressed a shiver and turned around again. </p><p> </p><p>Remy held the door for him to go inside, and that was when Virgil noticed that his Pa wasn’t there anymore.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe, maybe… Oh, do you have any summer schoolwork?”</p><p> </p><p>Virgil refocused and shook his head no, the response also serving to shake out thoughts of inky fingertips and <em> (eyes eyes eyes) </em>little girls. As far as he knew—and he already checked three times—he had finished his homework just before Pa’s accident. A pause, before continuing, “I’ll check again… Maybe I'll read. I don't know. Papa probably wouldn’t want me to fall behind huh…”</p><p> </p><p>Remy looked at Virgil strangely upon hearing that and laid a gentle hand on his son’s head. “Yeah… you’re right. He wouldn’t.” </p><p> </p><p>Teagan was a man who loved knowledge; his love for learning and teaching trumped only by his love for his students. Remy cleared his throat of the sudden lump, “Holler if you need me,” he called as he watched as his son climbed back the stairs two at a time. And if he noticed that Virgil was sticking closer to the banisters, Remy didn’t say anything. </p><p> </p><p>Virgil finally let himself breathe when he reached his room and locked the door behind him. </p><p> </p><p>He turned around to see Pa floating in the middle of his bedroom. Instinctively, Virgil clamped his mouth shut and pretended to look beyond the figure in front of him. </p><p> </p><p>“I guess you can see me, huh, Stormcloud?” Teagan smiled sadly, his melancholy expression pressing tense against Virgil’s chest. Virgil still silenced himself, but he was starting to waver. “Hey," Teagan soothed him, "it’s okay. Nothing bad will happen if you say yes.”</p><p> </p><p>Hearing that, Virgil finally nodded and sat down on his bed. His Pa faced him, sitting cross-legged in mid-air and propping up his chin with one of his hands.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought so.”</p><p> </p><p>“You knew? That I’m…” Virgil suddenly trailed off. What was he? “That I can see ghosts like you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, and no. It’s… a very long story, kiddo.” Teagan frowned, and his worry prickled across Virgil’s skin like dozens of tiny spiders. “But it doesn’t change the fact that what happened back there was really dangerous,”</p><p> </p><p>“With the… with the ghost with the faces?” Virgil asked, feeling uneasy. </p><p> </p><p>Teagan nodded, adding, “And that lil' guy you saw near your dad in the graveyard.” He began reaching out a hand to place on Virgil’s cheek. Even now, his Pa always did know how to best comfort him. Virgil almost tensed but instead leaned into the familiar gesture as though by instinct. He was expecting <em> cold </em> and <em> clammy </em> and <b> <em> touch</em> </b>. But instead, it passed through his head as if through thin air. The absence of touch cemented the divide between them, and it felt like a punch to Virgil's gut. He saw his Pa pull back his arm and let it fall on his lap, and tried to ignore the dull pang of disappointment blooming in his chest.</p><p> </p><p>He pretended not to see Teagan flexing his fingers. </p><p> </p><p>“Virgil, I won't… I don't want to stay like this,” Teagan began seriously. “Not forever. Not for long, actually,”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you tell me why?” Virgil asked and then added as a slight afterthought, "Please?" </p><p> </p><p>“There are rules Virgil. Rules that you should know about… <em> this </em> .” Virgil saw his Pa wave around an arm to accentuate the last word he’d said. " <em> Important </em> rules," he added. </p><p> </p><p>Virgil felt his thrum of a heartbeat quicken at that. <em> Rules. Usually important. Often must be followed </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“Then… what happens now?”</p><p> </p><p>Teagan leaned back and sighed. </p><p> </p><p>“Let’s talk about our family— or rather, let’s talk about <em> my </em> family.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next Chapter:</p><div>
  <p> </p>
  <p>      <b><i>"DON'T LOOK AT HIM!"</i></b></p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>      <b><i>"DON'T LOOK AT HIM!"</i></b><br/></p>
</div><i>“URPP!!"</i><p> </p><p>  <i>Virgil's hand flew to his mouth, clamping it shut. His mouth tasted foul, his eyes suddenly watered and he almost felt the room drop a couple of degrees colder.</i></p><div>
  <p> </p>
  <p>      <b><i>"DON'T LOOK AT HIM!"</i></b></p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>      <b><i>"YOU'RE LOOKING!!!!"</i></b><br/></p>
</div>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Arc Themesong: <i>Hakujitsu</i> by King Gnu</p><p><b>ADDITIONAL WARNING:</b> Extensive descriptions of arachnids. (Thread with care if you have arachnophobia!) Eye injuries. Blood and Descriptive gore, insect mention, Presumed Vomiting.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p><em> I </em> <em> laughed as usual  </em></p><p>
  <em> I thought we understood each other </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I overlooked the vague signs and looked for ludicrous differences </em>
</p><p><br/>
<em> ( </em> <b> <em>Hakujitsu</em> </b> <em> - King Gnu) </em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <span>2007</span>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The most important thing to remember is to never, ever, EV-ER let them realize that you can see them.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Think of it this way, Virgil. These things have been roaming around after their death, probably for years. And— and no matter what they did, no one was able to see them.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Teagan paused, before correcting himself, “Well, that isn’t one hundred percent accurate. Some people do have an affinity for these things. But trust me, none of them will See like you do. And for them…” Teagan floated to the bedroom window, his movement sending Virgil's curtains aflutter. Virgil followed and outside, he could already see shadowy figures in the dusk. “…That kind of existence is lonely. It’s frustrating, and it will drive them mad.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And Virgil couldn’t help but remember the thing that had clung to the side of their car not a couple of days ago. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“This is important, okay? Remember this. Because that kind of treatment, it— it twists them. </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>It warps them, and—”</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Papa, your eyes—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Teagan had to force himself to stop. Something was dripping down his face. Oh. Had he gotten carried away?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No… it wasn’t that. He just couldn’t afford to stay much longer.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil was calling his name. Teagan then forced himself to look at his son—his amazing, kind, beautiful son that had made him cry the moment Remy handed him over as a baby—a son that was now terrified, sensitive, and looking absolutely lost. Teagan was suddenly struck with sorrow as he met his son’s mismatched eyes. It was the kind of sorrow that would’ve knocked the wind out of lungs and driven glass shards into hearts. For the first time, Teagan cursed himself for dying so soon. He’d thought the two of them would have more opportunities to talk, more moments together, more time— </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What’s going on? Are you okay?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh god, he sounded terrified. Teagan immediately wiped away the liquid streaming down his cheek, pale translucent fingers pulling away to reveal smudged red.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>shitshitshitshit-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It…” Teagan tried to remember how to breathe, hoping against hope that the red would disappear.  It was strange, how a heart that had already stopped beating could still feel like a fluttering bird in the cage of his ribs. “It makes them desperate to be noticed." A pause. "And now… After all that time, here you are. You, who can’t help but see when you look.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(And that, Virgil realized as he reflected on the conversation years later, was probably the most chilling thing that his papa had said to him all night long.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“S— so, what now?” Virgil found himself stuttering, ice seizing his lungs. “What do I do?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Teagan's jaw tightened. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(“I’m so, so sorry Virgil,” he almost said.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Learn not to look,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were more. Rules, specifically—good god, there were a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> more rules. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the seasons changed, Virgil had taken extreme care to never even entertain the thought of breaking them. Every piece of advice his papa had given him was ingrained in his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, though, there were bad days more than good—bad days being times when Virgil wanted nothing more than to burst into hysterical tears and run to the safety of his dad's embrace, to bury himself into his arms and never take a single step outside again. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>By the end of his first year of having his newfound ability, Virgil came to realise some interesting things. Most of them were accurate to Teagan's advice, some were not. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One of the first things Virgil had noticed by himself was how sensitive the ghosts were to each other. Something that sent tingles down Virgil's spine would make some of Them hackle and hiss. A horrifying sight that made Virgil's heart skip a beat would render some restless and on edge. It seemed that it wasn't just Virgil who's avoiding the scarier stuff. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>An instance where that was what happened came to mind. It was one spirit that Virgil would still have nightmares about, even years after seeing it. He considered it to be the very first ghost that he hadn’t been able to look away from, his first obstacle. It was a mystery among mysteries, silent and imposing—Virgil could probably spot it from a mile away, even now. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But when he’d first laid eyes on it, he had noticed the putrid stench rolling off it in waves. It was a smell so foul and noxious that he could taste it, could feel it envelop his tongue. This particular spirit seemed to love walking through empty alleys and sometimes, amongst people too. So much so that the seven-foot-tall hulking figure had made home in one of them, connected to a busy sidewalk. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was on one of these streets that Virgil later noticed had a lack of ghosts and spirits walking around. While he didn’t immediately realize why at the time, he was about to find out why. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just because They can’t touch humans doesn’t mean that They can’t touch each other. And when they do, trust me when I say that it's not going to be pretty. Remember that, Virgil. It’s going to save you from a lot of nightmares…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(It was covered in it’s large, worn black raincoat which shone with an oil-like substance. The unidentifiable liquid dribbled sluggishly but didn't pool when it hit the pavement. Strips of torn burlap haphazardly wrapped around a disfigured head, cockroach legs peeking out and twitching out of every rip of the raincoat.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gnarly, scarred hands gripped a worn axe. Its blade was caked with rust and dried blood, the handle rotten and foul. The weapon was barely held together by a length of rusty barbed wire, adding to the whole axe murderer aesthetic. However, what truly cemented Virgil’s fear of it was not what it carried, but what it liked doing.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was a fine Saturday, and the father-son pair was on one of their weekend grocery runs. They had decided to check out a new grocery store instead of their regular, which was why they were out on a street Virgil normally wouldn't be on.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>HOOSH</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The dull glint of the blade in the sunlight immediately caught Virgil’s eye. The swing of the axe came so suddenly that it caused Virgil to nearly jump out of his skin, almost dropping  the small bag of groceries. Maybe he shouldn't have insisted on carrying so much when he and Remy had left the store. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But when he looked again, instead of carnage and gore like he’d instinctively expected when the strike hit, Virgil saw that it had instead phased harmlessly through a passerby on their Blackberry. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>HOOSH</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The next swing targeted a child not much older than him. Again, it made no contact with flesh nor bone. The child had merely giggled as she rushed to keep up with her warmly smiling mother.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>THWACK!!</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally, on the third swing, it made contact. Virgil was now near enough to see a gnarled hand drag </span>
  </em>
  <span>something</span>
  <em>
    <span> out of someone as if separating soul from flesh. The middle aged man was blissfully ignorant of the events that were occuring.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was struggling and twitching, attached to the blade of the axe. But the bigger of the two spirits was clearly stronger. The axe wielder pulled the squirming mass of flesh and intestines nearer and squeezed. It’s raincoat fluttered open, and at the faintest hint of a tongue peeking out from the depths of the fabric, Virgil had to look away. The mass made a choking sound and whined. There was a great squelch, like heavy blunt teeth biting into bloody meat, and the scene ended with a dying screech. All that was left was Virgil’s heartbeat pounding in his ears. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The axe was raised again and began swinging anew. The hands holding it were now bloody with slick and gore. Viscera landed on the pavement in chunks.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At the time, the nine-year-old hadn’t even been able to bring himself to scream. So gripping was the paralyzing terror that he’d only felt dizzyingly numb when his legs automatically carried him past the spirit. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In hindsight, he wouldn't have been hurt by the axe (probably not, at least), but god help him if it wasn’t a terrifying sight to experience. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His brain was screaming, fully expecting the pain of a blade slicing through living flesh. He could only squeeze Remy’s hand tighter and try not to let tears stream down his cheeks as he choked back silent sobs. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Remy, for his part, didn’t say anything. After all, it was only too easy for him to dismiss the tears as a reaction of his son being upset at the stern warning not to buy more chocolate he’d given him in the grocery store a few minutes ago. He never would have imagined that it could be mortal terror instead.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It took weeks before Virgil could even think of passing by that street. And even when he’d worked up the courage to do so, he could still hear the sound of the axe cutting through the air and on some occasions, the dull thwack of it meeting its mark.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though looking back, there were also days when Virgil surprised even himself. These were the days where ignoring the rotting skin and abundance of mouths growing where they shouldn’t be was easier. And with each good day, Virgil found himself getting better and better at dealing with unexpected visitors with crooked necks and smashed in skulls. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil, aged nine, had read a book about fears and phobias in his local public library right before Christmas break. He remembered it being during a field trip to the recently built children’s area of the library, soon after it had officially opened. His teacher had fondly shaken his head at the title of the book he’d grabbed, but let him be on his merry way. Virgil remembered that he was supposed to be polite and forced himself to smile while trying hard not to grimace. A loud, constant noise was bouncing around his skull and nearly driving him into a migraine. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Regardless, he tried to focus and flipped to the first page. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Fear (n.):  1. Defined as an unpleasant, often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger. </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His response? A glance at the source of the offending noise (a not-quite-human wailing near one of the bookshelves—peeling skin, spindly twitching claws, crawling across carpets—) and an attempt to cover the trembling of his fingers.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>So yes. Virgil spent the first few years of having his ability learning not to Look and train himself to brush off the feeling of wandering eyes—</span>
  <em>
    <span>keep looking forward keep looking forward keep—</span>
  </em>
  <span>and forcing himself to suppress the urge not to turn tail and run—</span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t look don’t look don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>look</span>
  <em>
    <span>—</span>
  </em>
  <span>each time a flailing shadow was cast over him when he walked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ignored every swiveling eye (or </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyes,</span>
  </em>
  <span> some days, and lack thereof, on others), every long, stretched out appendage, and every horror that crawled, slithered, or limped in front of him. Well, at least, he tried his best to. He had successfully managed to follow the cardinal rule of ignorance for a whole two years—two whole years of trying his best not to bat an eye or to react.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then Declan Janus came waltzing into his life. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the years to come, both he and Virgil would have different accounts of how they started off as friends. Dee would have scoffed and claimed that Virgil only started warming up to him when he needed a good grade in fifth grade science. Virgil would have rolled his eyes (for Dee never said those words out of spite) and said something along the lines of, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘That’s not true, you ass, I’ve always liked you—’</span>
  </em>
  <span> only for Dee to teasingly point out, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘That’s pretty gay, Virge</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’ Virgil would then retaliate by saying that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Dude, we’re both gay,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it would go on and on and on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that was what their whole relationship was like. They bantered and teased and annoyed the hell out of each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dee also understood Virgil in ways that no other person could—except perhaps for Teagan if he were still alive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, technically, Dee was right. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> gotten off to a rocky start. Though as with most things when it came to the Sanders boy, it was not for the reasons that one might initially think. It wasn’t that Virgil </span>
  <em>
    <span>disliked</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dee back then. In fact, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>also</span>
  </em>
  <span> true that Virgil had liked him pretty much since they met. The problem was something else—or, rather, some</span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> else. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>In his defense, he was still very much a young boy at the time. He was but a scrawny ten-year-old, fresh off summer vacation. And even if he was shy and quiet, he was looking forward to seeing his small circle of friends again. He’d heard that Leo had gone to theatre camp and had been casted as the lead in a short play there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> ("You gotta see our costumes, Virge!! We made them ourselves!")</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Adri had gotten a new pet dog that she was excited to introduce to everyone later. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>("He's the sweetest ever! You'd love him!") </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Elliott had gone overseas to visit some family in colder areas. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>("I'll show you guys pictures when I get them back from the store! There's snow </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>.")</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He himself had mostly spent the vacation with his dad at the cafe he worked at, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> mainly included staying in the employee break room. On days where business was slow, he would watch his dad work at his station from one of the tables near the edge of the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps that was why, distracted by the stories his friends told and questions about each other's vacation on the bus, he’d failed to notice how devoid the streets were of the dead. Like animals sensing an impending tsunami, they had retreated to some unimaginable higher ground to take shelter. Even the smaller ones that looked as if they were squashed and mashed that Virgil </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> saw ambling along the roadside were gone. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here we are,” Emile Picani gently told the young boy next to him, “Want me to take you to the office?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boy shook his head, smiled, and trudged inside, eyes looking forward despite some of the glances that were thrown his way. That was okay. This was why he’d insisted on getting to school earlier, so he could kill time at the office without being gawked at and ogled at </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Don't look…"</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dee?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boy turned, eyes meeting his foster father’s who then waved lightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have a good day! Pryce will come and pick you when you’re done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Bye, Doc—” He immediately amended, “I mean— bye, Emile.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“D...on't lo...ok…</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Don't looook…</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Promise me you’ll always stay vigilant, sweetheart.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Like my name?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Teagan smiled softly. And again, Virgil felt sadness and yearning bloom at the back of his throat. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Exactly, because foresight is always better than hindsight.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay, but… Pa?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, Stormcloud?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“…What’s four-sight?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was after Virgil was already in his seat for his first class when he finally felt it.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Good morning, class!" his teacher had greeted, sounding as warm as she could manage so early in the morning, "and welcome to another school year! My name is Miss Kari, but you can call me Miss Kay. I'll be teaching you math for this year! Now, I hope you had a nice summer vacation…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her voice trailed off in his mind as Virgil noticed something strange happening. It started as just a tingle. A small one at the back of his neck, just pulsating there. Enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be an issue. However, that soon changed. Slowly, goosebumps began to form. Virgil then noticed how quickly they spread from his neck down. Soon, his skin felt as if it were pressed against pins and needles and his mouth felt weirdly tangy and smoky at the same time. Everything stung and itched and twisted at the same time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil's vision began to spin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What was going on?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He let his eyes wander just a bit. Sure, he was nervous about looking around so shadily, but something just felt too </span>
  <em>
    <span>off</span>
  </em>
  <span> to ignore. He stole quick, darting glances around the classroom to see what was the source of this feeling he felt. This unease. This… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wrongness.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Now, before I begin taking attendance, I'd like to introduce everyone to a new friend we'll be having in our class!" Miss Kay smiled warmly and gestured for a student that had been sitting just outside Virgil's line of sight. "Declan? Can you introduce yourself for the class?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's Dee." The boy automatically corrected, "And it would be my pleasure."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The student slowly got out of his seat in the back, walking towards the front. Virgil stifled a gasp. He felt his eyes go wide as a sense of dread pooled in his stomach. Ice settled in his chest, making his heart beat wildly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was avoiding eye contact. The new student was obviously uncomfortable to be put on the spot like that, but still holding on to that boyish pride of not wanting to seem bothered. In the curves of his slouched back, Virgil could also sense a lack of sleep and just general fatigue. The sandy blond turned to look at the class, which immediately dissolved into soft murmurs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Specifically, they murmured about a bandage that ran along the left side of Dee’s face—though at that point, the bandage was far from the most important thing that Virgil was focusing on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Long, stringy black hair hanging limply around a skeletal body and a hunched back like torn spiderwebs. A burnt, deformed face attached to a long, thin neck that snapped as it turned to look at each and every thing that caught its attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Horrible, blistering skin, cracking and charring, falling off the bone in chunks every time a gaunt limb shifted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spider-like legs, as thick as Virgil’s wrist and far more numerous than a standard arachnid's. They burst out of a crooked torso and gave the image of a grotesque humanoid spider. Each skittering gait left behind thick black goo-like footprints. Nails as sharp as claws dug into tiny shoulders and clung onto a small back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A gaping, endlessly black mouth that opened to reveal mandibles and shrieked with a voice that could rattle glass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(It was probably the reason why Virgil couldn’t watch Coraline, even years down the road).</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>“DON'T LOOK AT HIM! </b>
</p><p>
  <b>DON'T LOOK AT HIM!” </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“URPP!!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil's hand flew to his mouth, clamping it shut. His mouth tasted foul, his eyes suddenly watered and he almost felt the room drop a couple of degrees colder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“DON'T LOOK!!</b>
</p><p>
  <b>DON'T LOOK!!! </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>YOU’RE LOOKING!!!!”</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely held in the bile that suddenly rose up from his stomach. His heart squeezed painfully as he shot up to his feet. The clang of a chair meeting concrete floor screeched everything to a grinding halt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The monstrosity that was clinging to Dee froze. Its eyes narrowed (“</span>
  <b>YOU!!!! DON'T YOU DARE!! DON'T LOOK! DON'T LOOK!!!!”</b>
  <span>) before it curled into itself with a shriek, disappearing into the child's back like an animal retreating back into its burrow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Deafening, haunted silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil had the tiniest, most mild awareness that his new classmate was blinking at him.  Forgive him though, for he was too focused on trying to get gulps of air into a set of lungs working at maximum capacity. He was dry heaving, chest tightly constricted and blood roaring in his ears. Dee's good eye, wide in confusion, met Virgil's own large, mismatched pair blown wide in utter terror. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil immediately looked away, shaking like a leaf. He could barely gasp out a strangled "excuse me" before grabbing his bag and bolting out of the classroom. His strange, sudden departure left behind a worried elementary school teacher, confused classmates, and one Declan Janus whose feelings were particularly hurt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a few moments before everyone had sort of realized what happened and Miss Kay immediately rushed out of the classroom to go find Virgil. Dee, however, just gave a sort of miffed sniff and went to awkwardly sit back down in his seat. Once in there, he self-consciously touched the bandage on his face. Biting his lip, he tried not to let frustrated tears spill over. Usually, he had a more solid handle on his feelings, but he hadn’t gotten a good night's sleep in a long while—not since he’d been discharged from that </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn</span>
  </em>
  <span> hospital</span>
  <em>
    <span>—</span>
  </em>
  <span>so his emotions were running high. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt the ghost of a touch gently prickle against the inside of his wrist. He glanced briefly to his right to meet the wisp of black smoke hanging in the air. If he were to look as close as he could, he could vaguely imagine a vaguely humanoid body within its formless curls. He placed a hand on the spot he felt the touch and gave a lackluster smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>…Yeah. Mother had been right. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The two of them would be just fine together. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(They won’t.)</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey, did you hear?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"…One of the fifth graders got really sick." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Really?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, this morning…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"…His dad picked him up…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I heard he had to be carried out!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Noooo wayyyy…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"…Which one?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"…Ambulance?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"D'ya think he's dyin' or somethin'?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course not. Idiot!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"…Nearly passed out…" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"…Bathroom…"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"…Isn't he that weird, quiet kid that hung out with Elliott?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dee picked at the food spread across his lunch tray. As the new kid, he had expected to have to sit alone for a few days, or at least have to make a bit more effort before his peers would include him. But he’d never expected his new school to be so… chatty. It was starting to get uncomfortable. He already stood out as is, what with the current state of his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He found himself beginning to wonder when will his peers’ ill-disguised whispers would stop being about that kid—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil, </span>
  </em>
  <span>right?—and start being about his bandages instead. Would they theorize about what they were for and what lay underneath?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or—heaven forbid—what had </span>
  <em>
    <span>happened</span>
  </em>
  <span> to him? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even Mother was starting to get a bit more antsy. He could almost feel her frown in the way she always did, but she still remained seated by his side. The buzzing he’d always associated with being close to her had picked up in intensity, but nothing further happened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It still didn’t stop Dee’s ears from pricking with each snippet and fragment of gossip that he overheard. By the end of that eventful period, news about what had happened in his class had already spread like wildfire. And to no surprise, when he got to lunch, the cafeteria was already abuzz with the sudden occurrence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dee bit the inside of his cheek and decisively pushed away his tray. Suddenly, he was not very hungry anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wishing to avoid the crowd, he ended up going to the bathroom for a while to freshen up. He looked up after washing his hands, catching sight of the bandages on his face that were covering the beginnings of what was surely going to be a nasty scar. He bristled, before closing the tap with more force than what was probably necessary. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even in death, it seemed that his shitty (which was a word he had just learned from one of the older boys in the Home—apparently it was a fitting word to use as a descriptor after they learned about his story and how he’d ended up there) father still wanted to leave a physical mark on him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>One that, if he was lucky,</span> <span>"had a chance of lightening up with proper medical treatment once he got older." His doctor's words, not his. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In his head though? He was stuck like this for a possibly infuriatingly long time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dee stormed off, without realizing Mother had neglected to follow him as she always did. In the bathroom’s many mirrors, Mother’s glazed, milky eyes narrowed as her nostrils flared slightly. She sensed the flurry of emotions Dee was emitting, and it did not make her happy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“how… dare theyyyy…!!!”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A spiderweb of cracks crept from one of the mirror’s edges. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the Sanders home, the delirious fever he had descended into almost made him cry and laugh at the same time. Because-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How the </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>hell</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> was he supposed to ignore that?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next day, both Dee and Virgil missed the rumours floating around of a mirror in the boy’s bathroom on the second floor. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Shattered!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” they said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And so suddenly!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” they claimed, with only one student in the bathroom stall at the time. They said that he heard the unmistakable sound of glass being broken into a million pieces. And when he went out to look, shards of the mirror in various sizes were already scattered on the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The mirror was replaced, the glass cleaned, and the school promised to look into the matter with great urgency. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though privately, among friends, the whispers became softer, more urgent, and more horrified after hearing an additional tidbit of information. The student that was there? Well. He also swore up and down that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> heard the shatter. Not another student going in, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly</span>
  </em>
  <span> not one going out.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>But as expected, Virgil couldn’t ignore whatever it was that he saw in his classroom that day. At least, not for long. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he returned to school a couple of days later, fever completely evaporated, he found himself unable to avoid his new classmate. They shared most of the same classes, after all, so the parasitic spectre was a constant presence. Oh, but Virgil really did try. He tried to be cordial and even gave Dee a fairly wide berth in class. But it was all so very difficult. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whatever was hitching a ride on Dee, Virgil noticed, was incredibly attached to the boy. Whenever someone got near, it would immediately crawl to Dee’s side. Its face would be inches away from the poor soul offending it and shrieking loudly enough to make Virgil’s ears ring even if he was several feet away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When people left Dee to his own devices, it would prowl across the classroom. It crawled on the ceiling, in corners, and over windows. As grotesque and twisted as its face was, the message was clear. No one was going to approach the boy if it had anything to say about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Virgil knew better than to Look, only then to ignore other signs of things that were starting to go wrong. He didn’t miss the eyebags under Dee’s eyes, or the way that he subconsciously rolled his shoulders when no one was looking. It was as if Dee was carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders. Virgil knew the signs of exhaustion and stress like he knew the halls of his own home, and it wasn’t hard for him to spot it in Dee’s every move. Sometimes, their eyes would meet. Virgil would then quickly avert his own, pretending not to spot the confusion and hurt in Dee’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An apology sat heavy and dead on his tongue, mingling with the taste of sulfur and hot metal. He sensed that like him, Dee was also burdened by the dead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Virgil… Virgil didn’t know what to do to help him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next Chapter:</p><p> </p><p>  <i>The spirit flickered and fizzled in and out of focus. Its moans travelled easily across the din of the crowded reception area, making the distress Virgil felt swell up. It was as if its mouth were a gate to the underworld, providing direct access to eavesdrop on its damned denizens. It gave a single, wailing howl before the scalp finally gave way. And then, the spirit began to split, part, and <b>rip</b> open from top to bottom.</i></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>ADDITIONAL WARNING</b> : Graphic descriptions of arachnids, (tread carefully if you have Arachnophobia!). Eye injuries, Hospitals, Car crash mentions, mentioned past child and spouse abuse.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> The present me, what can he do, what can he become?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If you live for somebody else’s sake you just can’t say a lot about right things  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<em> ( </em> <b> <em>Hakujitsu</em> </b> <em> - King Gnu) </em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> “Pa?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...Is that why you look so different from them?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“....Yeah... Virgil, the dead stay in this world for a few things. One of the reasons is a strong attachment of an object important to them from when they were still alive. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Like when they haunt something?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Right. So...What would it say about the ghost if the object that they felt so strongly attached to- So strong that it goes beyond even death- were a person?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Can you imagine what that kind of attachment would lead to?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That gave Virgil all the incentive he needed to say goodbye. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so began a very slow, careful, and calculated affair. Virgil almost felt like it was a dance. Both children were subtly maneuvering around each other and avoiding contact. Virgil out of fear and self preservation, and Declan, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>If he doesn’t want me near him, why should I, right?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were civil, of course. They never did anything antagonistic towards each other. It was just Dee stubbornly acting unbothered and Virgil being as desperately conflict avoidant as he possibly could. But if Dee’s lips curled in displeasure every time Virgil’s eyes averted away from his bandaged face, or if Virgil stiffened each time Dee entered the room -unseen parasitic spirit in tow-, no adult seemed to point it out. Maybe they never realized. Maybe they didn’t care. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Virgil had a sudden thought years later that they probably did, but opted to stay out of it. It was a smart move on their part- because 10 year old Virgil probably would have trouble explaining the reason that he wouldn’t stand close to Dee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, sorry. There’s just this huge ugly spider-monster near latched on to him yanno? I don’t wanna piss it off,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil had enough anxiety-ridden nights thinking about what people might say about him being able to see the dead- </span>
  <em>
    <span>hallucinating, needing help, frightening, fake</span>
  </em>
  <span> -thank you very much.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, this wasn’t to say that he wanted to let this continue. It had already been four weeks since Dee’s integration in their classroom, and the haunting had been relentless. So entwined it was with Declan that it was starting to be noticeable to even Virgil’s other non-Seeing peers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Firstly, it was always slightly colder being near him. Initially, it was not too noticeable. But sometimes, the temperature difference from being beside him can catch someone unsuspecting off guard. Then Virgil noticed some of them squirm more whenever Dee touched them as well, as if goosebumps raked their whole body. Some of the more unkind kids pointed it out with a snap, like any other tactless 10 year old would. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As calmly as Dee tried to handle the other children, these acts only lead to...Incidences. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A flowerpot on a table in the teacher’s lounge suddenly falling; a door suddenly slamming in someone’s face; the lights sometimes malfunctioning or worse- shattering; spider cracks creeping on the window at the same place no matter how many times it was replaced. And don’t think that Virgil didn’t notice these incidences coincide with the times where Dee’s teeth grit a little more, or when his back was tighter than usual after being brushed off with a grimace of discomfort or a scowl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And whenever someone did this, Virgil would brace himself. A howl of anger would pierce the air like a javelin. A long, hairy spider leg lashing out in a crack of motion. If it were tangible, Virgil had no trouble imagining that it would rip heads cleanly out of necks with it’s razorlike hairs and thick exoskeleton. And as good as Virgil is at ignoring them, he only had 2 years of experience under his belt. There were times where his indifference would crumble. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Really, he had to be more careful with his reactions. He noticed that his excuse of wincing had been because “I’ve just... been getting headaches lately” was starting to make people concerned. And nosey. He couldn’t risk Remy getting a harried phone call at work again- not after his embarrassing wipeout during the first day.)</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>“HOW DARE YOU!! HOWDAREHOWDAREHOWDARE-!!!”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On other days though, Dee would just...Ignore them. The poor guy would look too exhausted to even care. Virgil noticed this too, that alongside the exhaustion and stress, Dee fell sick pretty easily. This made Virgil very nervous. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And how would you think the person would react with something so otherworldly attached to them?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil  ended up deciding that it was a matter to think about on another day when the tremors in his hands got too much, or the tightness in his chest got too restricting. He braved himself enough to raise a hand and excused himself to the bathroom. With any luck, he'll be able to rinse the taste of smoke and burnt meat from his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nearly jumped as another shriek echoed from his classroom just as he was about to go round the corner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>… Yes. Hopefully. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>After the third window in a week was replaced, Virgil honestly had</span>
  <em>
    <span> enough</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His nerves were shot, he was starting to sleep less because </span>
  <em>
    <span>hello!!!!! WARNING!! WARNING!! you’re gonna see that THING in the morning!! BIG SPIDER!! HUGE SPIDER!!!</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he has trouble even </span>
  <em>
    <span>focusing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He doesn’t think that any of them would survive if this continues for the rest of the school year. He didn’t think </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dee</span>
  </em>
  <span> could survive this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil downright hated it, but it seemed that if he wanted this little </span>
  <em>
    <span>spider infestation </span>
  </em>
  <span>of theirs to be exterminated, he would have to (reluctantly) take matters into his own hands. Sure his only "ability" was being able to see Them. But there must be something… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>… That only he can do to help. Right? He’d have to try and remember some of his Pa’s advice, and hopefully wouldn’t have to resort to something crazy as (he shudders as he even thinks about this) ouija boards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which, nononono heck NO. He’s scared, desperate even- but absolutely NOT stupid. He didn’t need to add a shark to a tank of piranhas. Not when he was already dangling a foot over the water with a rope frayed beyond hope. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once Virgil decided that, then came the hard part. How to actually go about it. At nights, he would close his eyes and replayed Pa's last night with him. He recited and re-recited the basics of what his Pa said, almost like revisiting a home movie. He would always think of what ifs (</span>
  <em>
    <span>what if it realizes? What if it wants to hurt me? Oh god, what if it wants to hurt other people?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>) and possibilities (</span>
  <em>
    <span>Holy water? Salt? "Please go away; you're freaking everyone out"? </span>
  </em>
  <span>).  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not to mention that Dee himself wasn’t looking much better. Just yesterday, he had to go home early because he nearly passed out on the way to their Maths class. Admittedly, there was a part of Virgil that does feel relief when instances like this occur. If only for the break it would provide him from the demonic presence that clung onto Dee. However, he would try and squash the thought as soon as possible- Dee had no fault in this. And this was why Virgil wanted to help out- to make sure this all ends peacefully without any lingering issues. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the end, he came to the conclusion that: Whatever thing latched onto Dee? It probably wouldn't be so willing to move on with only a fulfilled final fish, and that it was probably impossible for it to pass on after they have no more attachment to the living. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So onto plan B. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A bit more difficult in the logistics department, but doable. Barely. Virgil could work with Barely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembers scarred knobbly hands around a rotting handle, remembers the glint of blood crusted steel and remembers the sharp sound of blade cutting through air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If push comes to shove, (and believe him, Virgil is feeling absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>shoved</span>
  </em>
  <span>), he’s going to try sheer, overpowering </span>
  <em>
    <span>force.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Come a fateful afternoon, Virgil might have found himself with just the possibility of an opportunity to do so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pair number 4, Declan and Virgil,” Their science teacher droned. He wrote something down. “Your project is t'find information about cold-blooded and hot-blooded animals. Ya hear me? Take notes- Include the types of animals that are in each type and explain them. Understand? Yea? Good. Next, Valerie and-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dee froze, looking only slightly shocked at the random pairing. Meanwhile, Virgil’s ears pricked up. Despite the eyes of the creature (who had wedged itself in one of the upper corners of their science class) boring into the back of his skull, he couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. It was a ray of sunshine bursting through thick clouds. And for a moment, the ash in his mouth didn’t feel so suffocating. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was the beginning of what seems to be the start of a perfect plan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That lunch period, Virgil mustered the nerves to not react at the growl rumbling just by his ear when he approached Declan’s lunch table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A part of him felt proud that he managed to cross the cafeteria like he did. That he managed to take one step in front of the other despite the large mandibles snapping around his neck. That he managed to kill any sort of squeak he made at the back of his throat before it left his lips. His heart thumped wildly, but Virgil repeated his mission like a mantra</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You will have a conversation with him. You will sit there and talk and focus. You will you will you will you NEED-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>—And maybe not cry. Yeah. Don’t cry. Crying would probably look bad right now.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as Virgil approached, it immediately scuttled to Dee’s side and disappeared into him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dee was alone, and Virgil felt much more confident about his plans to finally talk to him. He didn’t react when Virgil took a seat. Though before he could get a word out, Dee spoke up without so much of a glance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t change partners,” He recited as if he already repeated it before. A pause, before he continued, “I asked. I’m as </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span> as you are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil noted the sarcasm but didn't back down. He mustn't. He adjusted the tray of subpar cafeteria food he was carrying before sitting down. Again, he noticed Dee subtly rolling his shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not looking to change partners for the project dude,” He clarified. Dee looked up, confusion colouring the eye that Virgil could see, but he kept his expression neutral. “I’m serious. I think we’re gonna do good,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rare optimism, especially for Virgil. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Right,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really-” Virgil said. He hoped his voice didn’t sound too rushed or pinched, “I’ll see you around and uh. Ask my dad to call yours or something? I don’t have a cellphone,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dee’s eyes darkened for some reason but it soon disappeared as quickly as it came. “Sure- whatever Virgil. I’ll ask for the house number tomorrow.” He then saw Dee faltered ever so slightly, a small crack in his impenetrable walls, “But ah...Only when I get back. I have some business tomorrow”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil slightly balked. He wisely kept his mouth shut. He could recognize when someone doesn’t want other people to pry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, he just numbly nodded and they continued their awkward lunch in silence. And sure, Virgil could only taste ash and smoke, and Dee didn’t even look at him after he said goodbye when he was done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it was a start.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tonight, mother was not around. Dee figured she was probably still around the home though. He could still faintly hear a buzzing in his ear so she probably wasn’t too far away. The soft  noises that were too detached to be part of an old house settling down was a pretty strong indication of her presence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If he cared to listen, the other kids of the group foster home run by Emille Picani softly snored from their rooms. Each of them were lost in their dreams. But for him, ever since he left the hospital from the incident that left that</span>
  <em>
    <span> nice, big, splendidly healing scar</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the left side of his face, he was unable to sleep. Usually, he would toss, turn, then finally give up before finding a random book to read through the night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, he would spot Emille’s study to be lit up and the door slightly ajar. The kind, (and rather childish in Dee’s opinion) therapist would be combing through numerous texts, studying for a client, or doing work late into the night. But if only for an hour or two, he would allow Dee to join him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He wasn’t particularly someone that Dee was interested in. (His books were much more intriguing, in his opinion). But an interesting fact about the doctor that welcomed Declan to his group home was that he seemed intent on connecting anything and everything to cartoons. It was strange the first time where he had tried to pry sentences out of his mouth by talking about Edd, Ed and Eddy or the Powerpuff Girls. On those earlier nights, Dee had just kept his focus on one of the books instead. The cartoons were great shows in their own right, sure, but it was only when their conversations started to revolve around Death Note or Case Closed did Dee start to feel the itch of wanting to be involved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Emille finally made a breakthrough when he tried to claim that Pokemon was better than Digimon, the heathen.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tonight though, he felt no such urge for the good doctor’s company. He was fiddling with the edge of his bandage. His bad eye had been weird these past few days. It sort of ached, and sometimes he swore that it felt a little warm and uncomfortable. He could see it in Emille’s worried look as well. Perhaps it wasn’t healing as well as he had hoped? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was due for a checkup tomorrow though, so whatever was wrong, he’ll soon know. He gently prodded the bandage, hissing slightly when it particularly stung. It was like prodding a bruise. It hurts, but kind of satisfying. Like scratching an itch he wasn’t supposed to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dee was distracted, even to notice the dark tendrils of smoke wafting around the room and window. Random sightings of stray spirits of two that Dee had long gotten used to. His one current good eye stared at the ceiling without really registering what he was looking at. His mind kept wandering to his dark haired classmate with the mismatched eyes. There was a funny feeling in his stomach as he replayed the events at lunchtime like the coils of a snake rubbing against one another. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh. He looked at me in the face this time</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dee softly hissed in pain again and finally lowered his hand. Maybe tonight, he could get a restful sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The days that subsequently followed were unnervingly quiet. Virgil knew that it was the calm before the storm- he just didn’t count on </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> particular storm to blow his way. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry Doctor...There’s not much else we can do to save the eye- The infection was so sudden that even I’m baffled. I’m afraid that this is the best course of action.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I...I understand…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emille put a worried hand on Dee’s shoulder. Not that he felt it though. Everything just felt...surreal. Was he floating? Was he underwater? His head felt both dizzy and soul crushing at the same time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lockjawed, Dee could only sit in paralized disbelief as he waited for the adults to arrange for the removal of his eye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He barely registered dark wisps of smog swirling around him, like hands wrapping him into a hug. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil wasn’t only unnerved by hospitals, he gets absolutely petrified. So much trauma, pain, and sickness condensed in one single roof was the perfect place for an absolute plethora of spirits, ghosts, poltergeists, and all the horrors in between. He was sure that if he went looking, he would find ones that could rival even the one currently posing problems. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He never did, of course. But it doesn’t mean that it won’t come knocking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first step Virgil made into the lobby, his heart rate already started to speed up. The inhale he suddenly took became involuntarily shaky. He already knew that this was going to be a lot- </span>
  <em>
    <span>A lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> a lot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Wh...ere…?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One that was tall and willowy, appearing to be lost. It twisted and twisted until it looked like a wrung cloth. Each time, it’s claws grappled thin air to find something forever out of reach. It’s spine became more impossibly twisted each time it turned, and the pops the spine made was like a log cracking in a fire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Hurrrrrr tssssss….H urrr tssss…</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like China signalling the arrival of the Huns, </span>
  <em>
    <span>(So he had a Disney Marathon last night to psyche himself up- big deal)</span>
  </em>
  <span> the voice he heard above the din instantly sounded alarm bells in Virgil’s head. The absolute dread he felt when he heard the haunting lilt dropped his heart to his shoes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rocking back and forth with fists clenching the hair on it’s head, a spirit claimed a spot as it’s own. Virgil noticed that it’s human form was fraying, and it was on it’s last vestiges of control. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Barely,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Virgil’s heart hammered and he thought somberly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not for long.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The spirit flickered and fizzled in and out of focus. Its moans travelled easily across the din of the crowded reception area, making the distress Virgil felt swell up. It was as if its mouth were a gate to the underworld, providing direct access to eavesdrop on its damned denizens. It gave a single, wailing howl before the scalp finally gave way. And then, the spirit began to split, part, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>rip </span>
  </em>
  <span>open from top to bottom. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If a spirit decides to stay. Then all it takes is a moment. Maybe not now, maybe not soon. But that moment is gonna come.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What moment?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...The moment a spirit falls prey to absolute despair. When they realize what it means to roam- to be screaming but never heard, to reach out and never be found.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil sees his father smile ruefully. Whatever spell that made his words feel like they have untapped mystery and wisdom behind it was broken. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The moment where it finally </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>succumbs</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>(It was Virgil’s first time actually seeing this moment.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From the fissure, a plague of arms burst forth. First hand, then forearm, then elbows and shoulders. Green tinged skin trembled before splitting to reveal blinking eyes that spun dizzyingly into focus. Virgil barely managed to look away just before it managed to zero in on him. It dotted alongside the forearms in clusters and bulged from the palms.  Each of them were crying rivulets of blood that began to drip steadily. The spirit made a keening noise before it’s body keeled over like stone. The arms twitched and skittered, soon gaining use.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The way it began to move, fingernails digging into the floor and pulling the empty husk behind it; The way it dragged itself across the floor in a slow crawl; it would plague Virgil with night terrors for the rest of the week.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil swallowed the bile that was rapidly rising from his stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were so, so much more. He could absolutely feel it. Spirits and ghosts that made the atmosphere smothering-ly heavy. The stifling pressure practically forced Virgil into submission. He’d gladly keep his head down though, because seeing everything could probably deprive him from a night’s peaceful sleep for the rest of his life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If his hands weren’t so occupied, Virgil had wanted to rub his own eyes, even if it was only to grant him a temporary reprieve from the sights in front of him. Too bad though. On one hand, he  was cradling a basket of fruits. On the other, clutching a bouquet of beautiful flowers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So which room is this friend of yours Vee?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The question pulled him back into reality much like a puppet master tugging their marionette to life. The ingrained desire to </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t let them know </span>
  </em>
  <span>began to break through the fear overriding his brain. Like wrestling a controller away from a rogue player, he slowly regained a handle over himself. Right. He wasn’t alone. He should (</span>
  <em>
    <span>has to</span>
  </em>
  <span>) remember that he wasn’t alone.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Uh...Dad? I thought you’re taking me to the hospital?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yep! I am!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...Okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The door to the Sugarcube opened, making a bell chime from somewhere inside the cafe. Remy affixed a smile on his face to greet his boss behind the counter. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“-Hey Dot!” Virgil didn’t look convinced. But he entered when his dad held the door open anyway, “I just thought it would be nice to bring his parents something,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They didn’t say...I know his full name though. Uh-” Virgil racked his adrenaline addled brain,  “-Declan...De- Janice? Jaynus?-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Remy nodded, “-Janus. Roman god of beginnings and gates, among other stuff,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Beginnings huh?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil suddenly remembered what he had originally planned. His developing resolve to try and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do Something</span>
  </em>
  <span> for Dee’s sake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fitting. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Remy placed a hand on Virgil’s back, making him involuntarily squirm.  Both out of discomfort and out of agitation. Virgil was 90% sure he was drenched with cold sweat, and he really rather not try to explain to his dad why he feels like he had a quick dip in a pool.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, he didn’t need to. His hand only lingered for a fraction of a moment to catch Virgil’s attention. He seemed to be more interested in trying to balance a box of donuts and cups of coffee.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They were in and out within a few minutes. Of course, not before a brief exchange with Dot. She always gets pretty easily chatty when there’s not many customers to entertain. When they left, Virgil heard his father say something. His voice was suddenly soft, and it was as if he was remembering a memory.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“When I was waiting on your Pa... All I wanted was a cup of good coffee and something nice to eat. It would have made me feel so much better. So I just thought they might like that too.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Remy was worried. He’s worried about a lot of things before, (money, raising a son as a single father, some issues about his friends, if he were to compile a short list.), but there was just something...Off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mainly, because Virgil was asking to take him to the hospital, of all places. Not since Teagan died had Virgil even wanted to be anywhere near the damned building. Whatever ailment he may have had since then, he had stubbornly wanted to walk it off.  Not that there were a lot of those instances, the most recent fever he suddenly came down to at school notwithstanding. But Virgil was always a cautious sort of child. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was astoundingly resistant to peer pressure, and even better at being the “maybe-let’s-not” friend. They could get away with over the counter medication, chicken soup, or a bandaid for the occasional cold, stomach bug, or scraped knee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But now here they are. Waiting for the nurse at the receptionist counter to pull up Janus Declan’s room number and laden with flowers, fruits, pastries, and coffee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s still waiting to get out of surgery, but you can wait for him in his room,” The nurse notified, “Fourth Floor, pediatric unit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. Come on Virge,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was the tension he sees in the straight curve of his son’s back. Or maybe it’s the pale tinge of his skin. Or it was the slight tremor in his knees. But in the privacy of a blessedly empty elevator, Remy decided to finally step in. He gently nudged him with an elbow that caused him to seize up, “Everything good hun?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could see Virgil’s mouth tighten a minuscule of a fraction. His son seemed to be mulling over his words, as if rolling them over with his tongue before choosing the best ones. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope there won’t be any problems...In surgery, I mean.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Crap, why did he even open his mouth?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil’s toes curled and uncurled uncomfortably in his sneakers. He didn’t know why he blurted that out, but he was pretty sure it was because he was distracted by the sudden addition of an uninvited third person.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Visee..ting hoursss….end ah- ah- at ehyt...peee emm...</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was so close behind them that Virgil could almost feel non existent breaths brushing against his neck. It felt like centipedes were crawling up and down his spine, a sensation that almost sent Virgil dropping to his knees. A steady </span>
  <em>
    <span>drip drip drip</span>
  </em>
  <span> of blood hitting the elevator floor stood out against the whirr of cables and machinery. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil could swear that dark liquid lapped his shoes. However, it disappeared faster than he could blink. Virgil slowly glanced up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Against the shiny doors, he could see what dressed like a nurse wedged itself at the very back. Chunks of hair fell loose from it’s bun like rotting Spanish Moss. Half of it’s face was stretched taut to a severe frown. The other, completely smashed in. The force of whatever happened made it look like someone had cleanly cut a wedge out of the spirit’s head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure the doctors will do what they could.” His father said. His voice is calm and grounded like the sense of ineffable stability he displays whenever it comes to his son. Virgil was touched. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Eet needs...Leave….Ey..ht... pee-emm…</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It hacked out a wet, bloody cough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lights overhead flickered when the elevator grinded to a halt. The doors rolled open and Virgil stepped out without a single glance back.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>May...ke….leave....</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>P...lleas..e</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah- Just a hunch.”  A pause.  “...Also- Uh, is it okay if we have something else for dinner dad? I don’t...really feel like eating pizza tonight,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t react to the strange look his dad sent his way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good to me Stormcloud,”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next Chapter:</p><p> </p><p>  <i>It was the same corridor he saw, with the same flickering lights and the same rooms and doors. But Virgil just knew that something was just off about it. Maybe it’s the sudden silence that had descended around him. Or maybe it was the way that the hallway stretched out towards darkness so deep that he couldn’t see the end.</i></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>ADDITIONAL WARNING</b> : Graphic description of Arachnids (Tread carefully if you have arachnophobia!), Eye injuries, Hospitals.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sometimes I, for the first time know of the crime I’ve committed </em>
</p><p>
  <em> After I’ve hurt someone or lost someone without knowing </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You can’t go back to how it used to be even if you could see it sparkling  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You have to keep walking towards tomorrow even when snow falls down </em>
</p><p><br/>
<em> ( </em> <b> <em>Hakujitsu</em> </b> <em> - King Gnu </em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dad? Can I go get something? There’s a vending machine downstairs,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Remy glanced at his son. “Are you sure? We have donuts, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sees Virgil smile, a slight tightness around his eyes, “I just want some juice. Is that okay? Please?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At this point, both of them had been left alone in Dee’s empty hospital room. His apparent guardian, Emile, had stepped out a few minutes ago to make a rather important phone call. From what Remy had gathered, Emile was a family and children’s therapist. He was a busy man, and needed to take a few calls from his office sometimes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Remy caved and handed a few dollar bills from his wallet, “Want me to come with?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be too long?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Again, there was that smile. It was one that Remy couldn’t say that he liked. It was too similar to the smile he would wear during his own angst ridden, rebellious days when he was still a snot nosed brat. It was a smile that Remy knew was saying something along the lines of:</span>
  <em>
    <span> I’m probably gonna do something stupid.</span>
  </em>
  <span>   “I’ll try dad.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There was this one tradition from his dad’s side of the family. Every year around Christmas time, his Aunt Missy would bring back to Michigan a huge, 1000-piece puzzle set. Always a different set each year. She would rope Virgil into completing it with her, spreading it out across the large dining table that the Sanders owned. Sometimes, his grandparents would pitch in and help with a piece or two. Sometimes it was his dad or his papa. No matter who did what, the set would always be finished by Christmas morning. That was a guarantee.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He didn’t quite enjoy it as much as his Aunt Missy did, but Virgil wouldn’t say that he was opposed to it most of the time- especially during the years where the cold was especially biting. Too biting for snow angels or sledding, even with hot cocoa to warm them all up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It should be the one with the outie on the top and an innie on the left. And blue,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Many times over the years, a younger Virgil would express annoyance and dissatisfaction over it. Mostly, it was stemmed from the impatience of a child doing a tedious task.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>However, his Aunt Missy just grinned and continued her hunt for the next piece. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s just nice seeing the big picture once the pieces slot into place,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But what would happen if you don’t like what you end up seeing? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil wondered now, years later. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Would the satisfaction of slotting in the piece be worth it?</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil was an idiot. He was an absolute idiot who was way in over his head and knew nothing— He was <em>STUPIDSTUPIDSTUPID</em> in every language and every sense of the word— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He almost cried out in frustration as he paced his way down corridors of the hospital. The only thing that had kept him from sprinting full speed to the surgery waiting room was sheer societal convention and basic decency to not cause a ruckus in the hospital. It definitely didn’t stop him from speed walking though. And bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet when he waited for the elevator. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was an absolute idiot. He couldn’t believe he’d never thought about looking at things a little more deeply than he had. He had been so caught up in figuring out how to get the Spider—no, Dee’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>mother</span>
  </em>
  <span>—away from them that he’d forgotten to consider why she was there in the first place. And now, Dee had to literally pay an eye for it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(“</span>
  <em>
    <span>One of the reasons is a strong attachment of an object important to them from when they were alive.”)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Several important keywords: Attachment. Object. Important.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there was precious little that was more important to a mother than her child. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll try not to say too much, but Dee came into my group home due to an… unfortunate accident with his family.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dr. Picani smiled sadly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Apparently he was very close with his mother. She died with his father on the way to visit Declan at the hospital. Apparently he was...Not a very good person,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil had found a piece he didn’t know existed and unknowingly slotted it into place.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil thought about his father. And about this strange ability of his to see Them. (He dodged one that limped towards him, crying for something, someone, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he doesn't know. Doesn’t care-</span>
  </em>
  <span>) About parents and children and love and things they leave behind when they left. Imprints, rules, </span>
  <em>
    <span>protection</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry Virgil… I know this might be a lot to ask. I’m so, so sorry… I’m sorry I had to leave you with this. I thought we’d have more time.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dee’s mother left behind her ghost to protect her child, his father left rules and warnings and god knows whatever </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> was. In the end, what was the difference? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was not going to let Dee’s mother do anything that might end up hurting them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Both of them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew he was right the moment he stepped out of the elevator to the surgical wing. Both human and inhuman were rife with activity. Lights were momentarily flickering if you cared to notice the minuscule change in brightness. Meanwhile, sudden and erratic glitches were making certain electronics fizz out in frustrating ways. Screens turning on and off, calls turning into static-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil knew she was here. He could feel it in the taste of smoke in the air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, he could make out the spirits of all shapes and sizes restlessly milling about—standing, hovering, and pressed closer to walls than the center of the room. The restless spirits mingled amongst the humans, making it difficult to find the one he was looking for. However, a familiar loud howl broke through the din of harried medical personnel. A stake of ice drove itself into Virgil’s heart but his legs involuntarily moved. He swore that the voice came from-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey kid!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sudden voice of a human (</span>
  <em>
    <span>a living, breathing human thank god-</span>
  </em>
  <span>) stopped Virgil dead in his tracks. An orderly. Who was looking at him very suspiciously. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, goddamnit! </span>
  </em>
  <span> He started to approach Virgil. Each step that the orderly took towards him doubled his heart rate. No doubt he was going to get grilled about why he was here and where his parents were— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is this it? So close to finally putting an end to all the stifling fear and misunderstanding, only to be thwarted at the last moment by rules and regulations?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, with a burst of ingenuity that Virgil had never thought possible, he matched the steps of the orderly and walked towards him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me,” he started to speak, only a tad faster and a pitch higher than what he would consider as casual, “I’m lost, Mister. Can you— Can you, uh—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gestured vaguely with harried hands. Suddenly, his head went as blank as a sheet of paper. What was that— that room that—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you looking for something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! Well, not some</span>
  <em>
    <span>thing,</span>
  </em>
  <span> at least. It’s the— the— ahhhhh, what was it—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like a smack upside the head, it suddenly hit him, “The waiting room! Yeah, the waiting room for where you wait for surgery to be done? My, uh—” Virgil faintly realized that oh, now he’s just pulling out shit out of thin air “-my family’s there and I went down to get a snack. And I sort of forgot which… floor it was?” Virgil finished lamely. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He forgot the floor? How ridiculous. The orderly was going to call him out on it and— </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Yeah, straight down this corridor. There’s some seating and an area where you can wait. Are you sure your dad or mom’s waiting for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil breathed a sigh of relief, and a bit bewildered that it actually worked “Positive!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without thanking the orderly, Virgil strode off towards the direction he was pointed in. Virgil realized hours after that the Orderly might have thought he was rude. But at the time, manners were the last thing on his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>At the end of the corridor he felt her. He could feel her in the goosebumps maring his skin and in the scent of something distinctly floral yet smoky. He could see doors at the right side of the corridor leading to a large waiting area, filled with families. To the left, a large door leading to the Operating Rooms. Shadows of some of the braver spirits danced like flames along the walls, their faces distorted by the flickering of the fluorescent lights above him. A few feet around her though, the other spirits gave Dee's mother a wide berth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few nurses and personnel passed him by, but overall paid Virgil no heed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Good.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something made the back of his neck prickle though. A soft, nervous voice in his gut that he absolutely knew was right. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Something was going to happen. She’s not going to be happy to see you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That voice made his stomach squirm. However, another voice, even softer this time, had calmly spoken over it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dee needs this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Dee came into his life, Virgil definitely would have listened to the former and turned tail. However, the constant exposure to her presence had allowed Virgil to gather scraps and tatters of the little courage he had to take his first step into the corridor. Even if it was only for someone else.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>And what a first step it was. As soon as he got into the corridor, he was suddenly hit with a sense of vertigo so out of left field that he instinctively shot out an arm to the nearest wall in an effort to balance himself. The world spun a few turns, as did the contents of his stomach before it settled. His ears rang, and everything was just disorienting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil opened his eyes slowly (when had he closed it in the first place?) and ended up having to do the equivalent of forcing his hand to keep still on a lit stove.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Uuuuu….?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The face on the wall right next to where Virgil placed his hand looked at it with interest. Like it was a sudden prey that ambled into it’s lair. However, it doesn’t seem to want to do anything more so slowly, he took it off and clutched it against his chest. It gave a cackle and disappeared into the walls like it was dipping beneath liquid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil turned to face the end of the corridor again. He could smell the same sweet and smoky scent from before. However, it was overpowering now, almost nauseatingly so.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It was the same corridor he saw, with the same flickering lights and the same rooms and doors. But Virgil just knew that something was just off about it. Maybe it’s the sudden silence that had descended around him. Or maybe it was the way that the hallway stretched out towards darkness so deep that he couldn’t see the end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He suppressed a shudder as he began to take another step- and then another. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The air in here felt a bit heavier, and in some parts, even glinted. His movements felt the same way too, as if it met resistance with every motion. It was like he was trying to wade through honey with every step he took. As he took a closer look, the glimmers at the walls and corners turned out to be where the light hit the silver, thin threads of spiderwebs that dangled about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well. Guess now he knew that wherever he was, he was in the right place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took in a breath that came out more unsteady than what he was comfortable with. He felt watched. He felt dissected. He felt preyed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil must have been walking for a minute or two when he started feeling chills rake up and down his body. Not the </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m terrified hooooly-”</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind, but the </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is it just me or it’s starting to get pretty chilly down here?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of chills.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The temperature had dropped enough to be noticeable, much more drastic than anything he had felt around Dee at school. It soon began to be cold enough to remind him of </span>
  <em>
    <span>puzzles</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>snow</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Christmas</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Only this time, there was no hot chocolate to warm him up at the end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(And no dad. No Aunt Missy. No one.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, he was wearing a hoodie. He made use of it by zipping it up and stuffing his hands into the pockets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something spider-crawled just outside of his field of vision, almost making him instantly whip around. However, he only stopped. He hoped that by hiding his hands in his hoodie pocket like this, she wouldn’t see them tremble. He didn’t like this situation- not at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know who you are-” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Do youuuu…?”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil finally turned, meeting her face that was almost inches away from his and stared into her eyes. So close she was that he could hear her skin crackling and the rustle of her long spider-like legs. His mouth tasted burnt as though his lungs carried coals, and the sound of something sizzling faintly buzzed in his ears.Virgil could have passed on right then and there, if not for his stubbornness to see this all the way through.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Here, he was in her domain. Here, she was in control. Here, he was about to set things right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil was not someone who necessarily knew how to hold a nice conversation. He was awkward, and he knew that. He tended to stew on what people might think and how they’d react to the things he said. What-ifs were plentiful, and so were maybes. He was never the bravest, spirits notwithstanding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But if there was one thing he did know, it was when things started to go a little too far. It was how Virgil had known he had to step in and help with Dee’s mother, even going as far as disregarding the rules he promised himself that he would follow to a T. But now, inches away from her spider legs, with an ash coated tongue, and the scent of rubber mingling with flesh in the cold air, he began to mull over his words.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>And slowly, he decided what he was going to say. Because </span>
  <em>
    <span>a final wish might not help, but maybe this will. (And by God he hoped this will.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know that you’re Dee’s mother.” Virgil began to speak with a calmness he definitely didn’t feel</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(In fact, he didn’t even know how he could even get his voice to stay that steady. Frankly it was pretty dang impressive, if he were to say so himself.) </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “I know that you died. I’m really, really sorry about it but that doesn’t mean you can stay,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her mandibles clicked ominously and the strands of wiry hair that hung over her skeletal limbs swayed and raised, poised like cobras.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“...Why..? He is...He is-”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know who he is-” He began softly, “-I do. I know who Dee is, and how much he means to you. This is why I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>begging</span>
  </em>
  <span> you-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her multiple legs flexed, just barely threatening. Good. She wasn’t lashing out, so Virgil took that as a sign she was listening. However, the lights flickered more erratically. He didn’t know how things in here (wherever he was) affected the outside world. But he hoped that the sensitive equipment in the OR would be just okay. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t stay. You just can’t. You don’t belong here anymore. It’s time for you to let him be free,”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“I will never hurt him-I need-”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He needs you too-But he’s not going to be okay-! You staying here is leeching his life. You’re going to hurt Dee- No, You’re already hurting him more by staying here like this. You need to let him </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span> and live without you. Or-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“I need to protect him..!”</b>
</p><p>
  <b>He’s my…!!”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-I know...You already did. I’m sure of it. But if you don't stop- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dee will die.</span>
  </em>
  <span>,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This only caused her anger to crescendo into pure rage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“…!! YouuuUUUUU!!!-YOU’RE LYING!!" </b>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not!!! Believe me!!” Virgil hoped that she would hear the desperation in his voice, “Why he keeps getting sick or tired- why his eye became messed up to the point that it can’t be saved- it’s all because of your presence. You’re literally using him up to keep you here! And one day, that’s going to dry out and it’ll be over for him!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that was it. The yowl she made broke Virgil’s heart, and he only felt pity when she began striking him over and over with a shaking limb. It was the type of pity that made one’s heart feel heavy and their bones ache. The type of pity that makes one want to hug the other and tell them that it’s okay. A pity that even if it consumed Virgil alive, there was no more he could have done. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“GIVE HIMMM..!! GI-GIVE…!!!”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mandibles flexed open in a way that Virgil could only describe as traumatising-ly horrific. It was the essence of nightmares and horror. But it was only the visceral, broken sounds of her desperation that even came close to making Virgil flinch or cower.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clawed hands worked in tandem to try and eviscerate him. Doors from the sides of the hall slammed open and shut, making thunder sound like firecrackers in comparison. Still, Virgil didn’t move a muscle. All attempts passed by his body and face harmlessly while he waited for her to scream herself hoarse. Each strike was getting sloppy, but more fervent and riddled with anguish. Distantly, almost otherworldly in nature, he heard a sudden shattering of a light (and another, andthenanotherandanotherand-) that made someone somewhere cry out. Virgil stayed silent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(He still hoped this will)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, Virgil saw that she stopped trying to claw his guts out and ended up just sobbing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could feel it. Her pain; her anguish; and her innate sense of wanting to protect and love and</span>
  <em>
    <span> stay</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His eyes welled up with tears and he just let her </span>
  <em>
    <span>unravel.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“I’m so...sorry..I’m sorry”</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And finally, finally, he can see </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not the Spider ghost, not a poltergeist, not something dangerous. Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her form crumpled on the floor in front of Virgil. It was melting. Bit by bit, burnt bits flaked off to reveal raw, new skin. Hair that was entangled on her limbs fell off in clumps as the oppressive odor of smoke slowly dissipated. Her spider legs began to shrivel and curl. Her eyes were less hollow now. Her mandibles twisted into an expression of shame and anguish, but it looked much less threatening.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay...You didn’t know…” Virgil softly said, letting her calm down, “My dad..He wanted to stay too you know? So I think...I know how you feel…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>I just-...I didn’t get to do so much...I was so stupid I</b>
  <span>- I let him hurt my boy...I was so scared....My poor son...I never…We were arguing in the car because that bastard- he hurt Dee the night before that we had to take him to the hospital. The first time I actually felt brave enough- It all happened so fast...The next I knew it got so, so hot...” She full body shuddered, fine spikes on her spider legs bristled before it fell off like hay, “I never got to say I’m sorry for being such a weak mother-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You aren’t. Virgil wanted to tell her. Because as misguided as she was, as much trouble as she caused, weak was the last thing he would use to describe her. Not when they had broken lights, slamming doors and spider cracks on windows to prove it. The first being stubbornly protective to a fault.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But instead of saying that, Virgil let her release her regrets to this world that she built- to the void and shadowy hallways.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-I remembered thinking how much I wished that I was dreaming. That I was having a nightmare.” She laughed hysterically, like she was mocking herself, “I thought that maybe I was...When suddenly I saw him. Right in front of me…” Her hands flexed, as though something was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>, where she could just</span>
  <em>
    <span> reach out and touch it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I know that sometimes..He sees things like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
  <em>
    <span> (-Like it, like me, like </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>us</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>-)</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I saw he was suffering so I- Oh god...He was so hurt that I didn’t know what to do…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something squeezed in Virgil’s chest. “So you stayed,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I stayed…” She sniffed, “Because I didn’t want him to get hurt...But maybe...Maybe he was meant to hurt- At least for a while…Or else…-” A pause that was punctured by her shuddering the last of her crackling skin, “...Virgil?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“....Yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I...I don’t think I want to stay anymore. Not if things turn out like this”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...And I...Oh god I’m sorry to you too…” Like the spider cracks on the windows, he sees it spread across her body, limb and face like a web, “I was..Is...Will you-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil paused, taking a deep breath. And when he spoke, he spoke of words with the same mysterious weight that hung to his father’s all those years ago. A weight that’s meant to be grounding, and calming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cracks slowly deepened, before slowly, her body broke off like petals in a summer breeze. Starting with her spider-like limbs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It'll be okay. He’ll be okay. Both of us will,” It was his last act of kindness to Dee’s mother. And by god he’s going to make it count, “You did the right thing. I swear that Dee will never be alone. That he will be safe and be with people that will care and love him.” Miasma dripped down her face like dark wax,  “And I promise that until the end of his life, that will never change,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil could feel relief and reassurance radiate off her body like the ripples of when stone meets water in a pond. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So please….Rest easy,”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>A young boy, his tears, and his kind smile. That was the last few things that she saw.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She closed her eyes, and suddenly she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>free</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>A loving hand on his hair, as gentle as the petals of a dandelion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I like him, that boy. He’ll be good for you baby.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who...Him? But he’s...Virgil doesn’t like me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll...I’ll hopefully see you not-so-soon okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait- what do you mean? You’re leaving?</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> “I’m sorry for all the hurt I caused you...Or the times that I couldn’t do anything to help...I was just too scared...Too powerless. But oh,- be brave, darling.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No...It wasn’t your fault- Dad was just...He was just always too much...There was nothing anyone could have done. He kept you from grandma… So I didn’t blame you...I love you…</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>A kiss pressed into his left eyebrow, making warmth like sunshine bloom.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Momma loves you very much-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Me too mom</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“-and don’t you worry.  I’ll definitely give you father a nice trashing if I ever see him again! I have an eternity to look forward to.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Good- Kick his ass for me! He deserved all of it- I won’t forgive him. Not ever. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Goodbye darling…And listen to the nice doctor- will you? Doctor Picani just wants to help. Let him. I’ll hear all about what you do from now on when we meet again.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>One last smile. To remember her by until that day comes. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey there sleepyhead,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unguhh…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dee tried to open his eyes, noticing the heavy bandages that covered his left. He glanced to the side to meet Emile’s smiling face. However, there was a certain pinched worryness to it, as if he’s been somewhat fretting, “Welcome back!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dr P…?” He groggily asked. He felt as if he slept for both two seconds and two days at the same time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The one and only. How are you feeling?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Weird?” Somehow, Dee managed to not let his voice slur, “Sleepy? I don't...know,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay,” Emile smiled reassuringly, “You rest up, the surgery was a success and they’ll keep you here for a while to monitor you. And when you get back, there’s going to be the first season of Death Note with your name on it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’d like that.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dee wanted to say. But he felt as if the doctor knew that already. He blearily looked around. He saw the familiar darkly coloured mist hanging like fog that he came to associate with hospitals. He looked around again, but then- where’s…?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(“I’ll hear all about what you do from now on when we meet again.”)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was...Was that...Does that mean…?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a shame though, you missed a couple of guests.” Emille’s voice pulled him out of his dazed reverie before tears could form in Dee’s eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Guests</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wassit the others?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, not the kids,” He heard Emile chuckle as he pulled the chair closer to his bed, “They’re all waiting for you at home. I think they mentioned something about cards and presents. But no, it was your friend from school. He dropped by with his dad and brought some stuff for the both of us,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Declan gingerly turned his head to his bedside table, where a card was facing him. It was propped up against a brightly coloured cardboard box. By the cheesy, bubbly font, it seemed to be from a bakery or cafe of some sort. Even from the bed, he could see a short note written on it with large, careful, and almost deliberate penmanship. Like the writer was very mindful about how their handwriting was. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>Get well soon. Talk to you later. </p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p>-V</p>
</div><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Virgil...came?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Though I think he’s kinda scared of the hospital if you ask me. Poor kiddo took off to get some snacks and only came back later with the card. His dad almost did the Scooby Dooby Doors trying to find him,” Emille paused, “...Though I like him. He’s a nice boy. And his dad was very enjoyable company. Apparently the donuts were from the cafe he works at.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Declan reached for the card and flipped it in his hands. At the back, near one of the corners, he spotted a house phone number scrawled with the same penmanship as the note.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Huh…</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Welcome back”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, generally when people sit alone, they want to be left alone,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really now?” Declan saw the boy in front of him absolutely ignore his words and sat down. The whole situation reminded Declan of when he approached him for the first time before his sudden hospitalization, “And generally, people are excited to go back to school after being at the hospital,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The food is the same anyway, so I apologize if I don’t seem enthusiastic,” Declan replied dryly, causing Virgil’s smile to take on a more amused quality, “...Thanks by the way, for visiting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, that’s what friends do-” Virgil shrugged, as if he didn’t just flip Declan’s whole world in over his head using mere words. Declan numbly bit down a piece of apple that one of the older kids at the home packed for his lunch. Nonchalantly, and not at all in a way that suggests hesitance and dare he say, hope, he questioned. Like he was asking about something trivial. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So are we friends now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...That depends,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“On?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Virgil’s eye shined, and it darted to his side. To where Dee </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> that a dark mist like rain clouds was curling and floating around them like a curious snake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Do you believe in ghosts, Dee?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next Chapter: </p><p> </p><p>  <i>His heart pummeled, breaking and rebreaking in a bitterly familiar way. To be honest, it has been doing that so frequently that the pain was just starting to feel numb. His insides just felt bruised, tender, and  wrung dry. Like he’s just got too tired to fight the pain and now he has just resigned himself to just feeling it whenever it comes. Waves of pain just crashing and crashing into him, threatening to drag him under by his foot kicking and screaming. <strike>Oh gosh he’s starting to spiral again.</strike></i></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Arc Themesong: <i>Lemon</i> by Kenshi Yonezu</p>
<p><b>ADDITIONAL WARNINGS</b>: Mourning, and depressive state of mind.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I know there’s no possible way</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I could be hurt any more than this</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>(<strong>Lemon</strong> - Kenshi Yonezu)</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <span>2011</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It might be unexpected for anyone to know that Virgil's favorite season was summertime. He’s used to the polite (yet surprised) eyebrow raise and the “oh really?”s. He wasn't offended, he understood that it was hard to imagine the dreaded warm summers being the favorite season of a gangly teen that only ever wore hoodies and sweaters. But it was true!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Summers was when Dee could come over (with Emile’s permission of course) and they would have sleepovers if they feel like it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil would have fun then, to be honest. They never sleep anyway, and more often than not they’d sneak watching Adult Swim late into the summer nights. Remy would usually pretend not to notice the next morning while they nodded over their breakfast. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’d also enjoy cold and smooth milkshakes from the local ice cream parlor under the shades with friends.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> But most importantly, summer was also the only time when Virgil could watch his dad work.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Sugar Cube had been a small locally owned cafe in town by a couple Virgil knew as Mrs Dot and Mr Larry. He’d forget a lot about it when he grew up, but Virgil was sure there was one single thing he would keep remembering about the quaint cafe for the rest of his life. And  weirdly enough, it will be the pick-up counter. It was beautiful and cool to the touch. He remembered the sort of wet glimmer it had and how the surface was always just a little bit sticky no matter how much Remy tried to wipe it down during his shift. He remembered the little scuffs of age it has, and he was sure that he could probably pick out the exact maroon-red-brownish shade it was painted in in his sleep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That cafe held a lot of precious memories for Virgil. On the other hand, he unfortunately never really had many chances to be with his Pa at work when he was alive, (Teagan tutors during the summer, and Virgil wasn’t so keen in spending a day at a highschool full of bigger kids too.) so most bring-your-child-to-work days were at Remy’s. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He would sit in the employee break room with a book or his homework. He'd listen to the bustle of noise and chatter interwoven with the strong scent of roasted coffee beans. It was quite often for the daily monotony to be punctured by visits from his dad bearing drinks, or Mrs Dot bearing some snacks. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He remembered on a particularly momentous occasion, Remy finally caved and let Virgil try out one of his drinks. Like the ones he made for customers with added coffee, not the juice Virgil would get whenever he was over. For Virgil at the time, even trying this fabled adult drink was a Very Big Deal. Heck, even Dee was trying to sneak some from Emile's breakfast. (Though he hasn’t succeeded yet.). Emile refused to budge, even if he’s been drinking the stuff daily by the potful. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Oh YUCK!!!" </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil immediately pushed the cold drink in front of him away. Even after only a small sip, he definitely wasn't keen to try more. Remy dissolved into peels of laughter at the sight of his son grimacing and gagging in his seat. Once Virgil finally managed to get over the initial bitterness on his tongue, he glared at his father as vehemently as he could. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"That's no fair!!! You cheated!!" </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Oh honey you know I do NOT cheat!" Remy was still trying to contain the remnants of his laughter, "That really is how coffee tastes like! Surprise!!" </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Ugh!!! Why'd you and Pa even like that?? It tastes—! Blegh!!!" Virgil complained further, plucking a tissue from the counter. He immediately dabbed his tongue with it. Oh goodness gracious, it's going to take a milkshake and a half to get the residual taste out! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Oh no no," Remy smirked cheekily, leaning against the counter. He reached out to give his preteen son a playful pinch of his cheeks. Virgil swatted his hand with a scowl (though Remy would have said it was more of a pout) that had no heat behind it, "</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>I</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> like it. Your Pa doesn't. Called it 'bean water for the weak'" </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil stubbornly tried to fight back a grin hearing the name Teagan gave a drink his husband would describe as the ‘Nectar of the Gods’. He stirred the beverage with a straw almost like he would a potion. Mayhaps he could will it into tasting better? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Pa didn't?" </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Nope~ And put some syrup Stormcloud, it’ll balance out the bitterness-." Remy corrected and advised, "-Your Pa just needed it to function. And with those students of his, I don’t blame him — But it’s a </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>bad, bad, habit and one you should never ever have</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>!" He hastily tacked on at the end. No need for another caffeine addict in the family. Remy himself admitted that he was too far gone. But there might be hope for his spawn yet. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil just rolled his eyes and let his dad go back to work at the till. However, he missed the worried look concealed by the sunglasses on Remy's face as his eyes scanned the cafe. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was one of those slow afternoons in the Sugar Cube. A shift where there's not really people going in. In fact, the cafe was totally empty right now. These kinds of afternoons were Virgil's favourite. Because it meant he could sit in the main area instead of the employee break room. Currently, he had dragged a chair from one of the many seatings around the cafe and had plopped himself right in front of the pickup counter. It had just been a few moments before that his dad had finally caved and let Virgil try one of the drinks he was curious about. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>To be honest, Virgil never even thought he'd actually get his dad to say yes. He asked countless times before and ended up failing to convince him. So when Remy finally relented, Virgil sort of panicked and just pointed to the first drink he spotted on the menu. And boy, it did not pay off. It was nice because it was cold, with a bit of milk in it. He could even faintly taste caramel which had always been something he liked. But the bitterness of the coffee quickly overpowered the gentle sweetness, and immediately made his tongue reject the offending drink. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was just </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>nasty</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>However, Virgil savoured the small victories, and sitting outside like this- It was nice. Better than the employee break room at least. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil opened the lid of his drink and reached for the syrup pump-bottle on the counter. His arm barely reached it with his fingertips.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A tiniest movement caught itself in the corner of Virgil's eye, right where the door of the break room is. The initially closed door slowly swung ajar. Inch by inch, to about halfway open where it creaked to a stop. Virgil trained his eyes on his drink. In his peripheral vision, he could barely make out a long, pale hand snake out of the door and gently curl it's fingers around the handle. After a few moments, the hand slowly pulled back the door. It creaked softly before it shut with a final, barely audible click. All the while, Virgil focused on his drink in front of him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A few squirts of syrup, a stir, and a tentative sip later, Virgil found himself not hating it as much anymore. Eh, maybe just a bit more syrup. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Virgil? Did I hear the door just now?" Remy called out to him, looking up from whatever he was doing. Virgil sipped his drink and swallowed. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Nah dad. Just some wind." </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes. Much better. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A fortnight into a particular summer, Remy told Virgil that they needed to have a talk. No context, no segue, just a "Hey, there's something I need to talk to you about later."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cue the sound of his heart dropping twenty stories into his stomach- </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Plop</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>!</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was reassured that it wasn't anything he should worry about. But come on, it's not like it's going to do anything for his nerves. So Virgil swallowed his dread and said</span>
  <em>
    <span> okay,</span>
  </em>
  <span> forcing himself to eat his dinner and engage in idyllic conversation. Very</span>
  <em>
    <span> How was your day father? </span>
  </em>
  <span>And </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, it was good, how was YOUR day son? </span>
  </em>
  <span>With </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh it was splendid-</span>
  </em>
  <span> thrown in for good measure. Finally, after bearing pure torture, they had a Talk. Over dessert, Remy had explained some disturbing things about the cafe and it's current state.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Specifically</span>
  <b>, </b>
  <span>the struggle to attract customers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The struggle for Dot and Larry to make ends meet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The struggle to make the difficult decision to close it down and move to greener pastures. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And the equally difficult decision of his dad having to get another job. But apparently that’s already settled, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>you don’t have to worry about </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>that</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>. Have a little faith in your old man, why dontcha?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But, each word just added more and more dread weight on Virgil’s tight chest. It left his guts twisted and he thought- No. It can't be. At first, Virgil thought that there was a mistake. There must be. Then, he began trying to remember Remy's workplace from a different angle this time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> When? When did the chatter of customers dwindle to just generic elevator music?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> When did the waft of coffee just slowly stop? And Remy ended up just keeping wiping the countertops over and over and over?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When had Virgil started sitting at the counter more and more and more?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He felt absolutely sick. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(And sure, there’s also the sting that came with the knowledge that his dad had been keeping this from him, but Virgil was the last person that had the right to make a fuss about secrets.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil cursed himself that night. Because </span>
  <em>
    <span>for someone who Sees more, he sure has trouble seeing things happening right under his nose.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And now, Virgil’s eyes were closed, as if trying to commit it’s sight or image to memory. The car window his head was against felt cool against his skin at the heat of the summer sun. He faintly heard footsteps approaching. His eyes opened right as someone entered the driver's seat and closed the door. The currently thirteen year old wordlessly accepted the cardboard box that was handed to him. It was filled with items he recognized were from his dad’s employee locker.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready?” His dad’s smile was a bit subdued. Remy put his signature aviators on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go,” Virgil agreed, and ignored the sad ache in his chest. The car began to shift into gear and it moved away from it’s parking space near the cafe. Virgil looked back, perturbed when he realized that he had never seen the cafe looking quite like this. No dainty tables and chairs outside on the patio, but instead the presence of a jarring CLOSED - OUT OF BUSINESS sign taped on the door. If he squinted, he could nearly make out an outline of a long, stretchy arm waving languidly from the windows.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Virgil truly thought those days were over. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But then, his dad introduced him to Patton Hart. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well, formally. See, it wasn’t like Virgil was a total stranger to the Hart’s, especially during the holidays. His dad told him that Patton had lived nearby, when he was younger. And that he had left their town when he received a huge scholarship for baking and ended up settling down wherever he had ended up. Patton would end up working in a famous bakery or something, apparently. Virgil remembered many times throughout the years where he would receive boxes of baked goods just in time for his birthday, or Christmas. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Usually his gifts are a two-for-one deal (</span>
  <em>
    <span>ah the perks of a December holiday</span>
  </em>
  <span>). These boxes were never without a personal handwritten note congratulating him, or wishing them happy holidays, plus a pun or two thrown in for good measure. At some point, the sender began attaching crude (obviously childmade) crayon drawings to their packages. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Virgil never threw these away, and had each and every one tacked on a soft board in his bedroom. They were just way too cute okay? The kid might as well be freaking Picasso). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But meeting someone personally will be totally different from reading biannual letters from them. He was honestly curious to be able to finally meet this longtime friend of his parents. And after a little nudging, to be able to meet the  person that his dad is apparently going to run a bakery cafe with from now on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Go on Virgil,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil rang the doorbell twice and stepped back. His father was right beside him, carrying something hefty in a long gift bag. A gift for a small housewarming party, apparently. But Virgil knew that this housewarming party for three was just a way for him to formally meet Patton. The door soon opened and Virgil was met with a smile that rivaled the brightness of setting sun behind them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Remy!” The man that opened the door said jovially. The first thing that Virgil picked up from him was how warm he was. Not like summer. Not like fire. But like fresh cookies and comfy sweaters. He felt it radiating from his large, round glasses, from the smattering of freckles on his face, and from the soft cardigan he wore. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>First impression? Pretty good if he said so himself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His father was sweeped into a bear hug which he returned with a fond pat. They broke off and Patton turned to Virgil, “And this must be Virgil! It’s nice to see you kiddo!” He stuck out his hand, making Virgil feel strangely...good. Perhaps it was because Patton instinctively had respected his personal space enough not to not immediately go for a hug.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Mr. Hart,” Virgil took it, “It’s nice-” </span>
  <em>
    <span>To meet you? To meet the person that’s gonna give my dad a job? To have more cookies outside of birthdays and christmas?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “-to finally match a name to a face,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If possible, Patton had beamed wider, (</span>
  <em>
    <span>really- doesn't his cheeks hurt?</span>
  </em>
  <span>) “Call me Patton! And I’m glad too! Oh, I hope you liked all those cookies! We always had fun making them!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>‘The cookies were amazing Patton. Each and every year. And call him uncle, Vee,” Remy suggested with a smile, “With the amount of times people mistake us as brothers back then, might as well take it,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Virgil said, “Uncle Pat then,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well Uncle Patton sounds </span>
  <em>
    <span>s-Pat-tacular</span>
  </em>
  <span> to me~!” Virgil allowed himself a full blown grin. Corny, but he could appreciate puns. “Come in!! Come in!” Patton stepped aside to let them in. Virgil put one foot into the door. The smell of food was already wafting while the home looked so homey and-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A-CHOO!!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You okay there?” His newly dubbed Uncle Patton asked worriedly as the door closed behind them, “I just finished moving in all the stuff and if you’re allergic to dust…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no I’m good,” Virgil covered his stinging nose. “Uh- Someone’s probably talking about me? Or, something,” Patton didn’t look convinced, but Virgil’s reassurances after that soothed his worries a bit. Virgil followed his father and Patton to the dining room, passing through hallways that strangely enough, already had fixings on it. But no pictures. Perhaps he was still unpacking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> An honestly impressive spread of dishes were already laid out on the table. He looked around because the lingering scent that caused him to sneeze was even stronger in this room somehow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> It was sharp, eye watering, and like strong antiseptic. It felt more like his nose was stuffed into a cleaning closet of a hospital. But at least the mouthwatering smell of a promising, hearty, greasy dinner drowned it all out. He rubbed his nose inconspicuously as he sat down at the table right next to his dad.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton was excited to be back home in Sidestone, really. It had been way too long since he had left to improve his skills as a baker. And after what happened, Patton felt a little indecisive about what he should do. Some of his friends in the city thought familiarity would be good for him, and to do something he had always wanted. And now that he was unattached to the Big Apple, leaving behind an empty apartment, Patton found himself going back to his roots and contacting a dear old friend. Who was in front of him right now with his teenage son. (</span>
  <em>
    <span>Who you never met</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A nasty voice had said in his brain, </span>
  <em>
    <span>who would’ve been your godson</span>
  </em>
  <span>). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once he had finished the actual moving process, (it took a while, but who knew crying spells could be so distracting and time consuming?) he found himself admitting that familiarity was starting to be good to him. It was definitely one that Patton felt he desperately needed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He liked the familiar atmosphere of a small town compared to the big city; the familiar cookie cutter houses in a neat row; the familiar Sidestone filled with familiar people;</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Familiar Remy, who (God bless him and his caffeine driven heart), had agreed to co-own his new cafe bakery with him. Because as it turned out, the cafe he had been working at went out of business, so he needed a job anyway. Patton didn't know whether it was fate, or luck, or destiny, but it was something. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Though, Patton found both of them in a not so familiar circumstance. Remy’s son might not be able to pick it up, but years of friendship made it very easy for Patton to spot the eggshells they were carefully threading around each other. He noticed Remy’s soft smile and the ever present teasing glint in his eye. But also the awkward tension in his hands and the worry in his glances. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Remy probably didn’t know how to approach a delicate matter so freshly still, and Patton himself felt guilty that he couldn’t come back when his friend needed him the most. A lot of things changed in the time spent away from Sidestone and this was all unfamiliar territory now. Remy had lost Teagan to a car accident and Patton…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>Patton</span> <span>had</span><em><span> lost</span></em><span>.</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So much- </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>too</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> much. And all too soon.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His heart pummeled, breaking and rebreaking in a bitterly familiar way. To be honest, it has been doing that so frequently that the pain was just starting to feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>numb</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His insides just felt bruised, tender, and  wrung dry. Like he’s just got too tired to fight the pain and now he has just resigned himself to just feeling it whenever it comes. Waves of pain just crashing and crashing into him, threatening to drag him under by his foot kicking and screaming. </span>
  <span>Oh gosh he’s starting to spiral again</span>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This looks amazing!” Virgil’s voice grounded him enough for him to push the feeling of his sinking stomach and his throat closing up </span>
  <em>
    <span>down, down, down</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, he always did make the best food. In fact, he was the one that taught your dad his lasagna recipe,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s pretty awesome-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, Patton cemented a smile on his face. Saying nothing, he dished some baked Ziti with eggplant for his guests. He prepared himself to  laugh at compliments, smile at memories and play the part of a gracious and welcoming host. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If only the lump in his throat could ease up, that would be great thank you very very so truly much</span>
  </em>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(How Remy dealt with this, he would never know. If possible, it made him feel worse than usual, thinking of Remy desperately trying to care for a young child after Teagan’s death. Grief, Patton decided, is never supposed to be a lonely thing, no matter how much it felt like it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Never mind that he had to go through the same thing too</span>
  <span>)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So Patton,” Remy’s voiced out, putting his gift on the table with a plunk. It provided enough of a distraction so he could recenter himself, ‘Hun I know I won’t be the first or the last to welcome you back.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You aren’t,” Patton mentally patted himself in the back for being able to add a chuckle at his words.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But REGARDLESS,” Remy ploughed on. Because </span>
  <em>
    <span>typical Remy, who never liked interruptions</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and sees him taking out a bottle out of the gift bag, “It’s genuinely good to finally have you back, Puffball. We all missed you,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That old nickname made the knot in Patton’s chest loosen. He returned Remy’s smile a little tearily, but none the more genuinely, “...Thanks, Rem.” A pause  “But really? Wine?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Remy shrugged, “Welcome to Suburban living,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton laughed, almost feeling the rain cloud in his brain dispersing just a little as the small party of three began to dig in into their meals.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what’s New York like?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton hummed in thought at Virgil’s question halfway through the meal, “...Crowded. But it was nice.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This. This was why he invited Remy and his son for dinner. He saw this as a way for the teen slowly warm up to him. Which was good. Patton knew that they would see a lot more of each other, based on what Remy had been telling him. Patton was admittedly all for it. It would be...Nice, to have a kid around the shop again. So Virgil would always be welcome.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was a bit of a strange child though. A little awkward, a bit nervous, but not a ‘freak’- good heavens up above no. Virgil just came across as one of those kids that felt like they could see right through you. He would say that Virgil feels like a more awkward, child friendly, less homicidal Wednesday Addams. He left Patton feeling a bit examined, but not uncomfortable. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>THUNK</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Ouch!" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And apparently a little clumsy too,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Patton noted after Virgil accidentally smacked his head against the bottom of the dining table during an attempt to retrieve a dropped utensil. The poor boy didn't look anyone in the eye after that. Virgil spent the rest of the meal looking sheepish as though he was being laughed at. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Overall, Patton would dare say that the housewarming dinner was a success. He brought out some samples for the cafe’s dessert menu (In which Virgil Sanders realized he had found his soulmate and their name is 'Patton’s two-layered cheesecake brownies'. It's a thing, the ship has sailed.), took up Remy’s offer to make coffee for them to wash it down, and listened to Virgil attempt to talk about his summer. It was a bit sad when they’re leaving, but the loneliness of the empty house didn’t feel too oppressive anymore. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop by the cafe tomorrow,” Patton had told Remy and his son at the doorway, “You can see how far along we are!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds great,” Remy agreed, “Tomorrow then,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bye,” Virgil awkwardly says, “And- thank you for tonight,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem kiddo!” Patton laid a hand on Virgil’s head, and gave it just a little ruffle. Not too long though, he didn’t think he could do that yet. Not without it leaving a searing sensation on his hand that would surely render him into a sobbing mess later. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Some things were still a little too soon.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But regardless, Patton found himself smiling wide as he saw virgil return his wave from the car pulling away from the driveway.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil lowered his hand from the awkward, half hearted wave. He finally allowed himself to fully feel the flash of irritation and embarrassment. More specifically, at something unnervingly close to his dad’s new business partner. It was a child with a paper pale skin, who was flickering in and out of sight like a broken film. It floated leisurely near Patton's head, and even looked like it was enjoying himself. It was giggling uncontrollably, with an air of smugness and a satisfied look in it’s eyes. It was that familiar look he and Dee would get whenever they were up to something, like it had gotten away with a prank. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well okay, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a bit of a prank. So much so that partly why Virgil was so out of it was because he felt embarrassed about getting caught off guard. The sucker was waiting right under the table to jump out at him when he ducked to grab the spoon. Luckily, he managed to disguise his startled state as pulling himself out of the table a little too early, a little too quickly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> And now, Virgil was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so pleased </span>
  </em>
  <span>(oh gosh darn it, Dee’s smarmy sarcasm was  starting to rub off on him) to announce that he had a sore spot at the back of his head for his effort. He leaned against the car seat heavily as they left the Hart residence further and further. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It's official, he hated the cheeky ones. But hey, at least there were no spider legs this time.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter:</p>
<p>
  <i>He successfully suppressed a full body flinch as the ghost child suddenly decided that it was the perfect moment to let itself fall down from the ceiling, dangling by the ankles.The abyss it has for eyes were blown wide open while a black tongue lolled out.  Whatever was out there was curious, breathing a non-existent huff against the glass. Were they intruding on it’s haunting spot? Virgil hoped not.</i>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>ADDITIONAL WARNING</b>: None</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What were you doing? What were you looking at?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Your face turned to the side, expression unknown</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Lemon</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> - Kenshi Yonezu)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <span>The housewarming dinner was not the last time Virgil laid eyes on the ghost of that child. It followed Patton wherever he went. The attachment it had to Patton made it so Virgil would see it whenever he and Remy visited the new store as they  prepared to open.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(At first, Virgil worried it was another Dee situation. Because if it is, Virgil is gonna lose. His. Sh-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But as time passed, Virgil came to realize that the ghost following Patton was very different from Dee's mother. It felt less like a leech and more like….well, a ghost. It was There, but it was more like it’s a spectator of an unfolding movie rather than a spirit that had bound itself to a person. Which, Virgil had to admit, wasn't the worst 2-for-1 deal he ever had. Then again, all he had to compare was a literal spider-ghost-woman hybrid. Options were limited.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As it turns out, opening a cafe from scratch was NOT easy. It was taking a lot of work, and a lot of time.  So with the amount of time he's spending with his Uncle Patton (and by extension, the ghost), Virgil could say that he’s becoming very well acquainted with it’s presence. And also quite used to sudden bouts of sneezes. With every meeting, the ghost had brought with it the same strong sharpness in his nose from Patton’s house that night. At first it was annoying. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"ACHOO! ACHOO!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now it's just painful. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil groaned and rubbed his nose. Patton momentarily glanced back at him with sympathy before shoo-ing Virgil away to take over carrying some of the old items out to the curb. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(“It could be allergies kiddo, Goodness knows I have experience!”)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil had tried to protest but Patton had insisted, convinced that Virgil’s sinuses were probably acting up because of the dust. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So what do you think, Virgil?” Patton, grimy from sweat and dust later asked him after they moved everything. He was holding up a colour swatch he pulled from the pouch of his worn denim overalls. Virgil recognized them as swatches for paint when he held it against the bare walls.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was towards the end of summer, and Patton was picking out between two shades of blue to paint the interior. Behind him, the ghost child peered curiously. The dark inky abyss of it’s eyes swirled leisurely.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“<strong>Sky blue</strong>,” The ghost seemed to have already decided. Virgil felt a twang just resonate down his spine when he heard the ghost's echo-y voice right by his ear, “<strong>He </strong></span>
  <strong>
    <em>loves</em>
  </strong>
  <span><strong> sky blue,</strong>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil took a closer look. One of those shades was a beautiful pale blue. So pale that it was more grey than blue. The colour reminded Virgil of winter, cool and smooth, and of stardust and also tulle. The other, the one that the ghost claimed Patton had liked, was a gorgeous pastel blue. A little more muted than a baby's blue, but very easy on the eyes. Though Virgil wasn't sure why the ghost would call it a sky blue per say. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> he could see it, in clear, beachy summer skies strewn across the horizon.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil fanned himself with his gloved hand, and pretended to think for a moment, “...Most cafes have a more pastel theme, don’t they?” The ghost child beamed more, as if pleased that it was listened to, and floated off to God knows where. As if on cue, Virgil heard the ceiling above them begin to thump. Like a cat had gotten in it and couldn't get out. Or like someone was walking on it particularly loudly with a pair of workboots on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If Patton heard this, he didn't say anything. He deliberated, and ended up agreeing with Virgil's choice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds good to me!” He confirmed, pocketing the swatches back, “I’ll get the paint when I get to the store tomorrow. There's more than enough time for us to paint the walls before the furniture comes in!" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He saw Patton look around the freshly renovated lot. Virgil was honestly impressed, it had finally started to look more and more like a space for a cafe. All of them had just finished clearing some old, broken things from what would be the future store room. Now sweaty and a bit dusty, Virgil had kept Patton company picking out the paint job while Remy had gone out to get them a late lunch. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Outside, people were bustling about. Some of them slowed down when they passed by, trying to see what the new shop might be. The interest and footfall was understandable (which promised great omens) considering the fact that the new cafe would be situated at a nook in the corner at the ground floor at the local mall. It was a possible improvement from the Sugar Cube which had been in the middle of town. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You think it’s gonna work out this time?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Remy looked away from the TV and to his son. If he's being honest, this was just an opportunity to sit down with Virgil to relax after dinner. His son was more a fan of the show than he is, and Remy had been mindlessly watching for the last 20 minutes. But the character was still powering up the spirit thingamajig over his head, so he couldn’t have missed much. Right? He took a stab.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“...That...Blue orb thing, hon?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He saw Virgil roll his eyes good naturedly, “Not the Spirit Bomb dad-” His son muted the television and turned to him. Oh. This is </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>serious</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> serious talk time. “-I meant the cafe.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh,” Remy mulled over the question for a while, “Well...Okay. It will probably not take off immediately- I won’t lie. And all businesses get rough patches here and there. But honestly? I’d say so. It’s in a pretty good location, the locals love me... It has potential,”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s-” Virgil breathed in and smiled, “-That’s great dad. Yeah- I’m glad.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Remy’s eyes softened and placed a fatherly hand on his son’s head. Because this was Virgil, and if there’s one thing his son does, is worry. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wanna talk about it hon?” He questioned softly. Virgil was hesitant, and then slowly nodded. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay. Vee…Stormcloud. I know that you worry about the cafe and how it’ll do. I do too. But believe me when I say it’ll be okay. There’s really no reason to worry too much. Leave that to Patton and me. I’ve been watching Dot and Larry run the old joint for years. And Patton makes great stuff. You stop by the fridge each time you pass the kitchen,”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil’s cheek reddened and he chuckled awkwardly, “....Okay yeah, his cakes are good.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Then you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” Another pause and Remy pulled his son into a hug. He knew that there was a chance he'd get pushed away, with Virgil being at that broody teenager phase of his life right now. But he didn’t. “I know you’re scared. But we’ll be okay.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He felt Virgil squeeze, “I want it to work out. It’s important to you two so… I want it to work out.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“...I know. I want it to work out, too.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The blue orb was finally launched when they broke the hug off.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil tried not to let himself look outside too much though, since it wasn’t only the living that were interested in the ruckus.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>"Hhhhhhh….</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>hhh...H..h…"</b>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took in a deep sigh, already starting to break out in cold sweat. He didn’t get a full look at whatever was there, but he didn’t need (or honestly want) to. He could already imagine it, grotesque and deformed. Virgil could hear it panting all the way from the inside, as clear as the windows it’s pressing against. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He successfully suppressed a full body flinch as the ghost child suddenly decided that it was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span> moment to let itself fall down from the ceiling, dangling by the ankles.The abyss it has for eyes were blown wide open while a black tongue lolled out.  Whatever was out there was curious, breathing a non-existent huff against the glass. Were they intruding on it’s haunting spot? Virgil hoped not. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil let the giggling ghost child balloon upwards again in glee before it zipped through one of the walls leading into the kitchen. He didn’t know that it was to prepare for another prank or to  avoid the gaze of another of it’s kind from outside the window. But any moment of reprieve from a rude surprise was a welcome one. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wiped some perspiration from his forehead with cotton safety gloves, leaving behind a trail of grime. He was already feeling the sudden fatigue that came from being scared out of his wits. Outside, he heard the shuffling of heavy, muffled footsteps slowly drag away. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Good. Guess it was just curious. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Not much left now," Virgil also learned that Patton could be very talkative when he wanted to. Thankfully, this was a welcome distraction to fixate on in instances like this. He kept his eye trained on Patton who had his back turned away from him. Patton was measuring the walls with a tape measure to calculate the amount of paint needed. Focused, deliberately, as if the numbers might change the second he let his focus wander,  "Paint… Furniture…Appliances…signboard… Decor…" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All of which were items that were already either well on its way, or needed something else installed first. Virgil wouldn't be surprised if The Cafe (he was still calling it that because his dad and Patton wanted to keep the name a surprise from him until the grand opening- the goddamn </span>
  <em>
    <span>dorks</span>
  </em>
  <span>) would be fully operational a few weeks after school reopening. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Which Virgil felt was great, as far as timing was concerned. Summer was coming to a close and as fun as it was helping out with renovating the new store, he hadn’t had quite the time for leisurely activities with Dee or his friends. So having somewhere for them to hang even outside of summer would be great. He also really </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> need to get ready for the new school year. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had recently hit a bit of a growth spurt and some of his clothes looked a bit awkward on him now. So as much as he hated clothes shopping, it would appear that this time, he would have to bite the bullet, so to speak. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When do you plan on painting it?” Virgil still asked, to be polite. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm? Well, the furniture will come in the end of this week so maybe before then?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Need any help?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton stopped. He let the tape measure in his hands roll back with abandon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you’re welcome to kiddo. But I have it covered. I’m sure you have more plans than hang around with us while we’re getting all this done,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s somewhat true. Back-to-school shopping is usually a whole day affair in the Sanders household. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure you wanna spend some time with your friends before then,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s very true. Virgil didn’t exactly have formal plans made, but he knew that more often than not, he’ll end up doing something with Dee on the fly at the drop of a hat. Having one last day out with Dee sounds just what he needed before school reopens.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And besides,” He continued and stuffed the tape measure into the back pocket of his overalls.  Virgil predicted that he had a solid 80% chance that Patton would forget about it later. “You’re starting highschool now. And in the same one that your Pa taught at, aren’t you? I’m sure you’re excited!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A pause.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Was he?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The thought of it was...strange. He was 14, seven years A.P  (After Papa). His life was now able to be perfectly divided into two clean parts. A part with his dad and a part without. Objectively, Virgil knew seven years was a long time ago. It didn’t feel that long ago, sometimes, with him and his dad trying to adjust to life without his Papa, but also to the “gift” that his part of the family bestowed on him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Happy birthday to you~” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Remy was singing, something very rarely done that had Virgil appreciating each arising opportunity. He started sounding happier (more… Himself) with each passing day and passing month. He placed a chocolate cake in front of his son, careful not to let the two layer cake tip. The candles swayed and casted shadows on Virgil’s smiling face.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was Virgil’s first birthday without his Papa, and nothing (yet also somehow everything) was different. While it was a little early to celebrate, Virgil settled for a party of two before they went back to Michigan for the Christmas holidays, with just him and his dad. He didn't feel like he could handle a large party with friends and family so soon. Christmas was already stressful enough when it’s usually combined with his birthday. So this year, he wanted a private celebration and a subsequent quiet Christmas. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“-Happy birthday to you~”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Though it didn't mean his party was lacking in any way. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His dad’s friend sent an amazing batch of cookies, with a promise from Remy that Virgil could have it for breakfast every day until it’s finished if he wanted. Virgil thought he deserved the treat, because as the person had said in Virgil's birthday card attached to it; “Turning Eight is a Very Big Deal!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“-Happy Birthday dear Virgil~”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He received some wonderful presents from Auntie Missy and his grandparents. For now, they only sent him a couple of the smaller ones like scarves and books and socks. The bigger (coughcoughbettercough) ones were saved for the celebrations later. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>All of those had been unwrapped carefully despite all his vigour and excitement. (Tearing through things reminds Virgil too much of the ghosts he sees nowadays. It was all too easy to envision ghostly pale skin to be like paper, especially when other spirits made it seem like it was all too easy to rip apart) </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And if his eight (Eight!!) year old memory serves him well, there will also be a promised trip to find the perfect tree with his grandfather. All very exciting stuff.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“-Happy Birthday to you~!!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil beamed and wiped the tears that pooled in his eyes. He threw his hands around Remy’s neck, hugging his dad tightly before letting go. He kept his eyes trained down before bending down to blow out his candles.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“Hap..pie...b-uf-dae…</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>T…</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>T-ooo</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Y-yuuuuuuu</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Tuu yuuu...”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But even Virgil has to admit that being crooned (like static as gentle as graters against chalkboard in his ears) by what used to be a grinning young boy, (-face twisted beyond recognition, melted like clay and a voice stuttering like an old film-) is a little </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>too</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> much excitement.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Seven birthdays, seven summers, and seven earthly, sun anchored rotations had passed since his Papa had died. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His students were probably all in college or with jobs, and unless they’re now teachers, Virgil wouldn’t meet anyone his dad had taught. Virgil had just been thinking about how it would make him feel to meet his Pa’s colleagues. People who knew him as “Mr. Sanders: Excitable and (slightly) eccentric Geometry teacher” instead of “Teagan Sanders: husband to Remy Sanders, longtime friend of Patton Hart” and “Papa: father of Virgil Sanders. Protector from All Things Spooky”. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Respected, loved, cherished, </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Missed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the end, he gave a vague, sort of an all encompassing answer. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m...Kinda nervous.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It must have been an acceptable one, because Patton was nodding in understanding.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah. I’m sure you are.” Patton agreed with his hesitant statement, “Highschool always is. I remember my first day- Oh goodness gracious I was so jittery! I wanted to make new friends so badly, and for a while, I was convinced that no one wanted to be friends with me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He must have seen the expression on Virgil’s face, because he immediately followed up with a happy ending to the tale, -”But it all worked out in the end. I met your dads and things like that. I had lots of memories with them too. Very good ones that I still remember till this day,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That sort of got Virgil’s attention. His dad had often told him stories of his younger days, but his Pa was a bit more reserved on the matter. Virgil remembered him getting embarrassed whenever the subject was broached. Apparently, he had not wanted to be a bad influence on him, no matter how much dad and Virigil had laughed it off and teased him about it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You did?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah!!” Patton laughed, “Did he tell you the time we went trick or treating and ended up being chased home by a bat? I was half convinced that was Count Dracula himself!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil and Patton had sat down that afternoon while Patton began telling him stories about escapades he and his dad's got up to when they were his age. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Remy had joined them not too long later, and they continued over sodas and greasy fast food chain burgers. If Virgil had paid more attention, he would have spotted inky pools of black looking at them from the corners of the ceiling. They swirled with a glimmer like the depths of a galaxy as the owner hung on to Patton’s every word with innocent, childlike wonder. Pale blue lips quirk in an excited, juvenile grin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Highschool huh????</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>I wonder how it’s like</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>w that</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>~</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>I wanted to go there</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>                         So </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Black liquid sloshed in his eye sockets as he squealed just thinking about it. What a rare chance! </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <span>I’ll never get a chance like this again</span>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>
  <b>u</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>nds </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>fun</b>
  <span>!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil sneezed three times in rapid succession. Remy immediately handed him a tissue for the sudden bloody nose. Patton practically trampled over himself to fetch the first aid kit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So what’s in the tupperware?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Heaven,” Virgil said solemnly, with the intensity and seriousness of a lawyer rolling into court with the drive to </span>
  <em>
    <span>win</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was a good first day back to school, all things considered. The weather wasn’t as humid as it was during the peak of summer, and Virgil had spotted plenty of his friends to remain at ease about starting out in a new environment. Not to mention, he had something to look forward to at lunchtime. It was an item he brought out of his bag and plopped on the table like one would to show off a trophy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And breaking news: Heaven is a slice of cake,” Dee replied dryly, receiving a slice from his friend. The base was dense, heavy and dark, made out of chocolate. The top was just as dense, but yellow, moist and smelled faintly of lemons.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not cake,” Virgil insisted, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Two-layered cheesecake brownies</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Remember the cookies I'd get for Christmas or my birthday?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Or both-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“-Or both, sure.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The one with the good chocolate in them,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The one with the good chocolate in them,” Virgil reiterated, “The guy that bakes them is dad’s friend. And get this. Bottom's brownie and top's cheesecake."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Hence the Two-layered Cheesecake Brownie," </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil grinned. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"He told me to call 'im Uncle Patton and he’s gonna open a cafe with dad over at the mall,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee was still chewing. Virgil understood the lack of words, the expression on Dee’s face was enough to confirm that he too was falling head over heels for Patton’s baked goods. The squares of brownie and cheesecake fusion were dense and sweet, but delicious and absolutely moreish, “It’s good,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s amazing,” He corrected. Virgil was surprised at how </span>
  <em>
    <span>intent</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was in spreading the word of Patton Hart’s Two-layered Cheesecake Brownies in all it’s dense, cheesy, chocolatey glory. Hey, consider it free marketing for the cafe- </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re welcome dad</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And they’re selling these?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think?- No, I'm pretty sure.” He munched on the cafeteria standard lunch while letting Dee help himself to another square of the brownie. The cafeteria is so much larger than he’s used to at his middle school. And it was filled with more clique-like groups as well. He and Dee managed to snag a pretty private table at the back, peaceful enough for them to not get overwhelmed by the ruckus of hungry teenagers.  “It’s opening soon- we can go there if you want? Free goodies and son-of-the-owner perks guaranteed,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll have to ask Emile,” Dee promised, polishing off the last of his square, “Delicious. May I?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Go ahead. That’s why I brought the tupperware,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Excellent. Brian’s going to love this. His birthday is this weekend, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Virgil smiled, letting Dee stow away the tupperware. “We’ll bring some other stuff back if you stop by the opening. It might be belated, but it’ll be tasty,” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Over the years, Dee has definitely settled into life at the Picani group foster home. He was much more comfortable with Emile now. All that time spent together years ago during the operation, and when his eye was adjusting to the prosthetic was just the jolt they needed for Dee to warm up to him. And as much as he wanted to act that he isn’t, everybody soon noticed how adept Dee is at helping Emile take care of the other younger ones. Sure, he’s prickly and sarcastic in his own Declan-like way, but he can also be kind and thoughtful. Virgil might be an only child, but even he could see why some of the little ones would declare Dee as the ‘bestest big brother ever’. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course it’s excellent~-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil felt the telltale tingle that began in his sinus. He immediately cupped his nose to stow the sudden urge to sneeze. His nose twitched, but he managed to hold back the sneeze through the phantom sharpness of strong antiseptic.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“-Dad made them! And he’s the absolute best~”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lo and behold, there the ghost child was, floating like a balloon over his shoulder. God knows how long it was there. He didn’t see it that morning, so it must have recently shown itself or it was hitching a ride on Virgil the entire time. And he had no idea. Virgil resisted the urge to slam his face on the table. He sees Dee raise an eyebrow, eyes trained on him but Virgil knew that he noticed it too once the ghost started to move to the peripheral vision of his good eye.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Soon enough, the ghost had left again, possibly bored at the companionable silence. Once it was out of earshot, Dee turned to Virgil. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...Sooooo…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Something might have been following him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr Baker-person?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Scared me half to death when I first met him. He hadn’t stopped since. ”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So it’s a prankster.” There was a pause while Dee’s brain caught up with Virgil’s choice of words, “Wait, ‘He?’ So you mean…-” Declan glanced at it. It was going from table to table, trying to see whether there was anything interesting to watch. Not that Dee could fully make it out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s still...himself,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Dee exhaled, “So? Do you wanna talk to him?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil groaned. Does he? Does he really?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Virgil admitted, sounding only slightly aggravated, “Maybe?- No, I probably should. he’s just a kid, Dee…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can imagine that they would tend to be the most unstable,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil was glad, really, to have Dee around. It was nice to be able to talk about something like this with someone else. It made him feel less alone with this gift that his father had somehow left him. Regardless whether Dee could See as well as him, having someone that just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> is reassuring in and off itself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Again, there was a jolt of guilt. One that kept coming whenever Virgil was reminded that he essentially trusted a friend over Remy, a father that raised him. The one that does the Sailor Moon pose with Pa, however embarrassing it was for the both of them. The one that played along to predict who the culprit was when they watch Case Closed. He was really all Virgil had left in his immediate family. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> He tried pushing those thoughts down- because one day. One day he’ll try and tell Remy the truth- </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’ll make sure of it.</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...I should,” Virgil could already imagine it. What will it be? Would the child’s hands warp into claws? Perhaps his body would be impossibly twisted to the point he could only crawl?  Or maybe-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span><em>No,</em> Virgil decided, “If I could get him to move on before anything happened, it would be the best case scenario,”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee patted Virgil’s hand in empathy, a gesture that Virgil returned by flicking a fry to him half heartedly. Dee chuckled just as the bell rang. They spot the ghost lighting up in excitement as it flitted out of the cafeteria.  “In any case, I don’t envy you, Sanders,” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course you don’t,” Virgil grouched and got up as well. “Freaking smoke. I see spider legs and you get freaking </span>
  <em>
    <span>smoke</span>
  </em>
  <span>….And I suppose I’ll be the one that has to make sure he doesn’t get into trouble,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>complete </span>
  </em>
  <span>faith in you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You bast-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“-And thank you for the brownies~!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil tried to swipe the baseball cap on Dee’s head. Being taller, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>freaking jerk </span>
  </em>
  <span>just maneuvered out of the way and had the </span>
  <em>
    <span>audacity to laugh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next Chapter: </p>
<p>
  <i>“You...You can see us, can’t you?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Virgil felt his spine straighten. (And if that weren’t a dead giveaway, nothing is.)</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Well shit.</i>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>ADDITIONAL WARNING<b>: Implied unhealthy relationships, grief, implied animal abuse, talks about adoption.</b></b>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If you’re somewhere now, just the way I am</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Trapped in loneliness, suffering and crying</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Somehow, please, just forget about me</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I wish for it so strongly, with all my heart</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Lemon</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> - Kenshi Yonezu)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Do you promise?" </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Yes. I promise."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Do you really?" </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"...I'll try my best."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dark tracks ran freely down his cheeks. The midnight swirls of his eyes spun like the cosmos. There was a faint whisper, making his voice sound as distant as the stars. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Okay,"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He then flickered, joining the stars to be forever out of reach.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil was woken up that weekend by something soft incessantly brushing the tip of his nose, a sensation so ticklish that it automatically made Virgil’s expression wrinkle even when unconscious. It was gentle, featherlike— </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And annoying. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil opened his eyes with great difficulty and came face to face with what appeared to be pure </span>
  <em>
    <span>fluff</span>
  </em>
  <span> purring on his chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His hand automatically reached over and scratched the kitten’s ear to slowly wake her up. It did the trick. The small kitten that looked like she had on a tuxedo slowly stretched in that lazy, languid way cats do, making the muscles in its tiny body rippled to life. Virgil let her wake up on her own, trying not to jostle her too much. Soon, she raised her head and got on her paws. With all the gracefulness of a fairy, the kitten slid down Virgil's chest, off his bed, and onto the floor without so much as a sound. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil let her trot off to her food bowl that he’d filled before going to bed the night before. After he felt sufficiently awake, he sat up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Having a cat around like this felt… nice. Virgil had never had a pet before, bar the old Schnauzer that  his grandparents had. And even then, Ol’ Crusty had died not a year before his father. He wouldn’t say that he had much experience with the little guy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But he knew that this kitten couldn’t stay.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil wasn’t sure how twisted spirits and an innocent small animal would mix, long term. Of course he knew that logically speaking, all animals would have come in contact with what he sees. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Again, he couldn’t help but recall the way a mouth opened a bit too wide to reveal teeth that numbered a few too many). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But, a part of him just didn’t have the heart to knowingly place a pet in a potentially stressful situation, so he’d never asked his dad for any over the years. Before that, Virgil just hadn’t really hit that phase in every kid’s life where all they wanted was a dog, a cat, or in some instances, a pony.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The clock on his desk stand told him it was slightly early for his meeting with Dee. Even the shelter that they planned to drop the kitten at wouldn’t open for a few more hours, but it was not long enough that he could afford to go back to sleep or laze around. Virgil reached for his closet, intending to get ready for the day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil’s hand had just wrapped around the knob before he paused. Almost immediately, he felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>Something</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his gut. The feeling writhed and coiled uncomfortably, enough to make him squirm, and bubbles of crude despair began to froth in the depths of his stomach. It all began to mix with his own sudden increasing heart rate and suddenly, he realized, …</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ah. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Crap. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There's a visitor. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His hand squeezed the knob to ground him from the thundering of his chest and the thought of confronting whatever was in his room right now.  Whatever sound was in the background, whether it be the chirping of birds or the sound of his dad getting breakfast in the kitchen, it was drowned out by the loud beats of his heart going overdrive.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>bump. One.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Babump. Two.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>BABUMPBABUMP</span>
  <b>
    <em>. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Three</em>
  </b>
  <b>.</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled the closet door open with a drawn-out creak. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The hangers swung.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The clothes inside fluttered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>“Goo...uuud…</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b> Mor…</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Morni...ng….”</b>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sudden ghost of a breath in his ear (Virgil thought rather absently that Patton would definitely have appreciated that pun) and the hollow voice would have sent Virgil jumping three feet in the air if he were any other person. However, he hardly batted an eye when he reached inside the closet to grab one of his hoodies. Although, is knuckles whitened as he squeezed the familiar fabric. It was a miracle that his heart didn’t burst out of his chest, with the crazy staccato rhythm it continued to beat in. However, the head of a spirit did, craning through his chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The ghost twisted its head up, making a sound uncannily similar to the crack of knuckles. The face it made was horrible; unsightly and grotesque enough that the act of not immediately looking away was a feat of strength. For the spirit, it was probably nothing more than a funny face. For Virgil, it would be an addition to the many faces he saw in the dark on sleepless nights.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil rubbed his nose and pretended to gaze at the hoodie in his hand, as though considering his choices. Without letting the moment drag on, he turned around and walked through the spirit as if it were nothing. He walked to a mirror hung over the drawer, despairing when the spirit began following him like a curious child. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh man…” he began, speaking over the spirit’s increasingly fervent muttering, “these eyebags are really getting worse,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(He might have seemed nonchalant, but whatever Virgil had for dinner yesterday was seriously threatening to make a reappearance if he didn’t calm himself.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil could see it in the mirror. It hovered over Virgil’s shoulders, its mouth that looked like nothing more than a gash through skin mumbling words Virgil couldn’t make out in an otherworldly garble. Shudders rippled down his spine and electrified the hair at the back of his neck. The pure fear that Virgil was feeling reminded him of </span>
  <em>
    <span>spider legs— no eyes— too many eyes— inky fingertips—hooshhooshhoosh</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>THWACK—</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>!!!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He inhaled sharply. It was the biggest visible reaction Virgil made all morning. He tore his eyes away from the mirror.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil’s mind was suddenly steered away from that dangerous train of thought by the kitten brushing against his pants. She was done eating and had caught his attention by swirling around his legs like liquid satin. Upon closer inspection, however, her steps had halted, big eyes trained right on the spirit standing directly behind Virgil. The kitten's velvet ears twitched and flattened to her head. Virgil’s stomach began to sink with dread. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He had a bad feeling about this. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The spirit met the cat's narrowed eyes. It tilted it’s head, tilted and tilted and tilted until the neck was bent and crooked in a way that no human could accomplish. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>“Kaaa…? Kat….?”</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Long, crooked fingers reached out to soft, dark coloured pelt. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In a split second, Virgil’s stomach leaped from the bottom of his feet to his throat. He ignored the sudden mewl that kitten produced when he scooped her up in one sudden, fluid motion. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no- oh nononono nope </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>nope</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>, not today sir. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"W-Well, let's go find you a home, lil’ girl!" he said, voice full of fake cheer, even borderline hysterical. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil didn’t stick around to see the spirit’s reaction. He stayed only long enough to grab his phone before hightailing it out of there. He'd think about the guy in his bedroom later. For now, he sprinted down the stairs two steps at a time. The kitten wailed quietly in discomfort, but Virgil only hushed her and let her curl into the pocket of his hoodie. Really, she should be more grateful that he’d managed to— </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“—I don’t know about this Pat,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He had introduced himself as Preston- Preston Hart.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Hart</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil bit back a naughty word he learned from one of Dee's older Foster siblings and pressed himself against the wall. Patton's voice had halted him dead in his tracks at the bottom of the stairs. He allowed himself to catch his breath while blood pounded in his ears. The feeling of his chest wanting to explode intensified twofold when he realized Patton's presence because </span>
  <em>
    <span>no nonononono he's not ready yet—</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Beside the staircase, separated by the wall, he could hear his dad chatting with Patton at their dinner table. If he strained, he could smell the scent of coffee hanging in the air. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course, breakfast. Patton must have come over for breakfast. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil glanced down at his stomach, then to the front door just a few feet away, then back at the wriggling lump. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>"Yes. I promise".</span>
  </em>
  <span>) </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Was that…?" Patton's head rose up, turning around in the direction of the front door that had snapped shut. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"It sure was." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Remy set down their drinks before sitting down. Patton gladly received his, but nursed the mug rather cautiously instead of taking a sip. He still kept glancing back to the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Remy sighed over the top of his own mug before he murmured, "He thinks he's so slick… Just like his father." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton could hear fondness in his voice, but also a note of nostalgia and a hint of sadness.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe worry too?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Patton thought. Which was fair. He was worried for Teagan whenever he acted weirdly back then too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, yes. Patton remembered now. The averted eyes. The clammy hands. How whenever Teagan hugged him, he could feel his hummingbird heartbeat thrumming through his clothes. How could he have forgotten about those little things about Teagan?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The memories stopped once Remy set down the mug with a heavy clink. He sat down right across Patton, looking very much like he was scrutinizing him. Patton was already nervous by then, so much so that when his phone chimed to alert him of an incoming message, he was more than happy to use that to avoid meeting Remy’s eyes. He quickly opened it, only for his mood to pummel again because </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>From: Husband &lt;3</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>To: Me</span>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <span>Message: Morning Pat. Sorry, Just checking in to confirm whether we’re still good for Thursday? I won’t take too much of your time.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Received: 7:40am</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Patton paused. Remy must have picked up on his feelings because he had nudged Patton’s mug nearer to him. Patton smiled weakly, locking his phone and slipping it back into his pocket. His smile, however, was not returned. The smile on Patton’s slowly slid down. Ah...Remy was upset.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Remy eyed him for a moment. Then sighed, “I wished you talked to me earlier. I would have helped,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You would’ve,” Patton agreed, because oh Remy would have, most definitely. Patton knew him, and Remy would have no hesitation in hopping the earlier plane to New York the second he caught wind of what had happened with Patton’s husband. Patton resisted to let out a bitter laugh, well, not like they were going to be husbands for very long now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why didn’t you let me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you hadn’t needed to. I had it under control and when I realized I didn’t...I made the decision to come here,” He kept nursing his mug, finding comfort in the warmth that started to burn in his palm, “It all worked out for the best…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“At least let me come over and punch him after he isn’t your husband anymore-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Remy no,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Remy yes?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Remy </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Booooooo”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was silence when Patton sipped his tea.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Honestly it surprised Patton that Remy only threatened violence, instead of just showing up on the day off and wordlessly slugging the object of his protective rage. That guy should be thankful because Patton is definitely doing him a favor by holding Remy back like this. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Remy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There really isn’t anything I did my dearest Patton,” Remy patted his hand, “And I still feel bad about that. Just...I still think you’re being too nice to him, you know?” Remy shook his head, “You deserve to be angry,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton gave a low sigh of contentment as he let the tea work it’s magic on his stressed out body. He then smiled wryly and looked Remy in the eye, “Oh I am,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a shrug, “Then why not show it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Yeah, you better bring it back home to your place.” Like a helium balloon, Preston hovered, wagging a pale finger in front of the kitten’s snout. She meowed sourly and suddenly became rather bitey. “Dad’s allergic to cats.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>To: Dad</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>From: Me</span>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <span>Message: hey dad. gtg. srry, didn’t wanna disturb u and uncle pat. i’ll be w dee. we’ll go to the shelter once it opens. ily</span>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <span>Sent: 7:52am</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Received: 7:53am</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Virgil! Do you how do? And oh! Hey there, little one! Anyway, you’re here early. I thought you and Dee weren’t meeting for another—” Emile glanced down at his watch, “—half hour or so?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil realized that he must have caught Emile during an inconvenient time. He was wearing clothes more suited for an office rather than lounging home on a Saturday. Virgil held out the kitten (who was suddenly being very docile in his arms) to get a few scritches from the doctor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s up, doc,” Virgil smiled wanly, “Sorry, I know I’m early.” And crap, he didn’t even have a good excuse to give, did he?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine, it’s fine, come on in! Some of the other kids are probably still in their room. But I think Dee was up and about to help Pryce make breakfast— Dee?” Emile turned, then raised his voice just a bit to catch Dee’s attention.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes???” He heard Dee’s voice float out from somewhere within the depths of the rather large house.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Virgil’s here for you!-” He turned back to Virgil, “I have to pop out to the office soon. You know where everything is, feel free to join us for breakfast!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil thanked him and excused himself to the Picani group home kitchen. Indeed, he could hear signs of the kids in their rooms getting ready for their day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That and well…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Thump. Tathump. Thumpthump.</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ah. There it probably was, the little problem Virgil heard thumping away upstairs. Like something was pounding on the floors repeatedly. The way that Emile seemed oblivious, alerted Virgil that indeed, this wasn’t something human. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee’s head popped out from the kitchen. “You’re...early,” he said, eyebrows raised. However, Virgil knew that tone. It was the same tone he would make when something unexpected happened, but he was trying to conceal his surprise.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, something popped up.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...Well. Since you’re already here, might as well make yourself useful.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil let the kitten down. Her whiskers twitched cautiously as she took in her surroundings. He let her sniff around and went to join Dee in the kitchen. The surroundings don't feel particularly overwhelming, so there’s no reason to not let the kitten roam. Pryce waved to him from the stove. Dee returned to his task of setting down some plates on the table. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mornin’, Vee!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil returned Pryce’s greeting and peered over his shoulder, “Eggs?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep! Want some? I can make ‘em sunnyside up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil was tempted to take Pryce up on the offer. (Sunnyside up was his favorite). However, he decided against it, since he basically intruded their breakfast anyway.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, I don’t wanna be a bother. I’m fine with anything you guys are having. So, uh— I’ll get the drinks?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh okay. And yeah, go for it,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pryce was a decent guy, a couple of years older than Dee and had stayed at the home for just as long too. Fun, always down to hang, and quick to spot them a few dollars for ice cream or the bus fare to get around when they were bored. From what Virgil knew, he was saving up for college next year (medicine will suit him, Virgil thinks). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil fetched the juice, sidestepping Dee who was on his way to load the toaster. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Brian (one of the younger children currently under Emile’s care) came in later, beaming like sunshine and looking pleased. Virgil smiled at him and let the 8 year-old high five him, “Good morning Brie- And before I forget. Happy Birthday!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks Vee!!” his smile stretched wider. Pryce softly cleared his throat, “Oh yeah! And thanks for the cake! It was sooo good!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ah, Patton’s two-layered brownie cheesecake has charmed another heart, so it seemed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem! I didn’t make it, but I’ll pass the message on to the person that did. He’d love to know that you liked it,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(He remembered the first time he had it during the dinner, and it was like Patton had been a statue breathed to life. He remembered the sheer joy that brightened Patton’s eyes like gems when Virgil gushed over them. His mouth had just automatically smiled and he looked so </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah, he’d definitely love to know that someone else liked it too.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Between the three of them, they made a stack of toast and an impressive pile of scrambled eggs. Virgil poured an approximate flood of ketchup over his own eggs on the plate and followed Dee upstairs to eat their breakfast in privacy. Brian was perfectly happy to play with the kitten for a bit while Pryce kept an eye on them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Virgil pretended it wasn’t because Dee had lightly suggested that it would be best if they stayed downstairs. Because it would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>so bad if the cat found something to scratch upstairs, yes?</span>
  </em>
  <span> And </span>
  <em>
    <span>how terrible it would be if she were to find her way into Emile’s study</span>
  </em>
  <span>- and </span>
  <em>
    <span>they couldn’t have that- Couldn’t they now? </span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil nearly froze at the top of the staircase, but managed to put one foot in front of the other when Dee inconspicuously nudged his side. In the end, they managed the short walk to Dee’s room without Virgil reacting to the tendrils of slimy hair that had made itself home in the walls and floor of the Picani home. And more impressively, Virgil didn’t even sidestep any of them when they tried (and failed) to wrap itself around their ankles. From the attic, he could hear something loud weeping relentlessly. It’s cries still sounded human, so much so that Virgil’s chest had automatically ached just hearing it. He knew though, that it meant whatever spirit had made itself home, had not had that Moment yet where they had succumbed to what the reality of being a ghost is like. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” Dee closed the door so the pair of twins living in the room opposite him won’t hear anything. Not that Virgil thinks they will, they're very heavy sleepers and late risers.  “Not that you’re not welcome, but is there a reason for your ah, sudden morning call?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Both kids sat cross-legged on the floor, back against the wall. Well, moreso shakily slid down in Virgil’s case. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Virgil slightly pushed the egg around on his plate. It would probably take a minute for him to be able  to stomach anything. He still heard the crying bounce around his head.  “Patton’s there right now. I think they’re discussing the menu, or something? I don’t know, I didn’t stick around to ask.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> weren’t suspicious.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Virgil grumbled. His head was still bowed, as though looking for the answer he needed in the mixture of egg and ketchup on toast, “I just— I need a plan.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee wiped some ketchup from the edge of his lips, looking thoughtful, “You gotta start talking to him some way or another. To find the root of the problem and all,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know the root of the problem… just… help?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Honestly, that sounded pathetic even for Virgil. He saw Dee’s lips twitch in amusement.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, okay. ‘Course I help. It’s not like there’s anyone else that could,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the end, the shelter was happy to take the kitten off their hands. The shelter’s resident vet even gave the kitten a once over and apparently, they were optimistic about her chances of being adopted after her quarantine period was over. He knew he made the right choice of holding on to her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dee- Cat”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?-HEY!” Dee glanced up from his phone, But Virgil already had a head start “Hey-! Virgil wait up!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The dark tendrils of smoke that had been following them were the first to react. It smoothly flowed it’s way over to Virgil, but stopped a few feet from the mouth of the alley. It was rustling like something was making it uncomfortable and on edge. Dee caught up with Virgil, who ended up crouching over a stack of cardboard boxes nearby the alley. Ink coloured swirls parted by his feet as he stopped by Virgil. His ankles felt slightly chilly, as if he had been walking across a frozen pond. He resisted shuddering at the sensation.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Right here,” Virgil’s voice was soft, Dee assumed it was so that the cat Virgil claimed he saw wasn’t going to be scared of.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you sure it’s-?” Even alive? Not a ghost?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“-I think so,” It took some time, a little coaxing, and a lot of patience on their part. But eventually, they managed to get the kitten to come out of hiding. It was fine, they didn;t have anything to do after school anyway. An hour or so wouldn’t really make anyone worry. Dee could see her wide eyes darting around, ears pinned back. Poor thing was shaking, and her mewls were soft and heartbreaking.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey...Hey….Shh...it okay. Poor baby....” Well. Colour him dumbfounded. Dee couldn’t believe it- Virgil "future president of the Junji Ito fanclub" Sanders, cooing over a small kitten. It was wild. He vaguely wondered if his friend would make kissy noises next.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dee let Virgil fuss over the cat while he looked around for any signs of the mother. However, the alley seemed empty. And...rather foggy.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t think she’s around,” He sees Virgil’s eyes uncomfortably linger at a spot nearby the dumpster, “I think we have to take it home with us,” Dee picked up the implicit meaning behind Virgil’’s words and trusted his judgement.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As they left the alley way, Virgil sneaked a glance behind him. Yellow slitted eyes blinked from every shadowy corner, coming from ink-like blots that vaguely shaped like a feline. Hellish yowling that echoed off the alley walls. And the longer Virgil stayed, the more human the yowling sounded. He felt himself start to feel chills.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The feline ink blots were desperately trying to break out the shadow enveloping them, like clawing out of a deep pool of thick oil and miasma. The darkness stemmed from a figure right in the middle of the alley, right at the other end. Virgil could tell that it wasn’t human.  He could feel it from the crack across it’s face that acted as a visage of mirth and amusement. And from the way that the cat-like spirits weren't trying to hurt the kitten, but protecting her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil tightened his hold on the kitten</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No, not even in life had it </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>ever</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> been human. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He and Dee walked past the child ghost that had refused to go near the alley. He felt it’s abyssal eyes bore into him as they walked by. It tilted his head, expression looking as if it too had it’s own jigsaw puzzle moment. It said something plainly, like stating a fact.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You...You can see us, can’t you?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil felt his spine straighten. (And if that weren’t a dead giveaway, nothing is.)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well shit.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It all worked out,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil hummed in agreement. He stayed in his good eye’s line of sight, like how Dee was comfortable with. Several spirits hidden within shadows casted on buildings regarded them with curiosity, but thankfully nothing further. Dee fell into step next to him, looking more pensive than usual. In fact, he would even say he was acting… melancholic?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m… glad. She deserved a home.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something about that tone made bells sound inside of Virgil’s head, an indicator that something was off. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...Dee? You good?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just peachy, Sanders.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil gently knocked his elbow against his. “Come on, Lord of the Lies. What, did you see something there that I didn’t?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee scoffed and returned the gesture, “You know that’s impossible.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then? Are you still thinking about-?” Virgil gestured to his hair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No... It was just…” His frown deepened, “…Emile and my social worker said the same thing, you know.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At first, Virgil was confused about what he meant. What, that Dee needed to be quarantined before he could be introduced to the other kids? That he was active for his size? Or— </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>…Oh. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Couldn’t Emile…?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Emile is my foster father. There’s a difference. And yes, technically he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> adopt me. He asked me about it. But I don’t know. I just…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee’s lip tightened.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “I feel like I should wait. That’s something about to happen,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...Okay,”  Virgil knew what he meant. While he knew both him and Dee aren’t impulsive, they both were very in tune with their instincts. Maybe it was just their natural</span>
  <em>
    <span> peachy</span>
  </em>
  <span> personality, maybe it’s because of their “abilities”. But if Dee’s instincts were telling him to take things slowly, Virgil trusted that it would  end up being for a good reason. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve met a few families that went well actually.” Virgil hummed to signal that he was listening. Oh yeah, Dee did offhandedly mention that sometimes. Always in that nonchalant, let’s-not-focus-on-that kind of way. So Virgil (with intentions of being respectful and a Good Friend) never pried. He just thought that Dee kept staying at the group home because plans had changed “That is, they did go well until they found out about…” Dee tapped right at the corner of his left eye.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His prosthetic eye.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil stopped dead in his track, feeling his stomach suddenly bottom out. This, Dee never said anything about. Virgil’s brain immediately parkoured to the worst case scenario.  “Oh shit— </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dee— I didn’t know…” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And like the bastard it is, fell smack on the face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sees Dee blinking, vaguely looking as if Virgil had suddenly turned around and struck him at the back of his head. Like Virgil had said something that he couldn’t compute. That is, before his brain caught up with Virgil’s train of thought.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no! Nonono! It’s- it’s not like that!” He immediately rectified in horror, “None of them were assholes, or anything! Emile would never-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Relief swept over Virgil like a tidal wave. Oh thank </span>
  <em>
    <span>goodness</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell Dee? That scared me!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, sorry! It just, most of them agreed that the upkeep of this sucker here would be difficult.” Dee referred to his prosthetic eye. “Too much money needed that...Yeah. Anyway, it’s not that I minded that much. I’m happy with the arrangements I have now, you know. Emile’s great. He’s done so much for me. I can’t really imagine having much more than that. I…” Dee brushed the subject off as easily as brushing the lint off his shoulders, “And if I end up not getting adopted, I plan on just doing what I can to repay Emile back for everything. Pryce is planning on doing the same thing, I can too. So yeah... Never mind.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>“I swear that Dee will never be alone. That he will be safe and be with people that will care and love him.”</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn, Dee...I…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Vee, it’s okay.” Dee turned to him with a smile, a part of his bangs fell over the scar on his left eye, “You’ve done enough. You kept your promise to mom. I’m...good. I’m good,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>“And I promise that until the end of his life, that will never change,”</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s been a while since I saw that,” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil twisting his waist to see Remy leaning against the doorway of his room. He was looking at the papers scattered in front of Virgil on the floor where his son was sitting cross legged. They were old drawings, and familiar ones too, made using crayon and messy finger paint, “Oh yeah..I just. I found them when I was...cleaning the closet?” (That was a good enough excuse, right? Virgil hoped it was).</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh. Can I come in?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Virgil scooted over to let his dad sit cross legged next to him. He wasn’t particularly trying to hide the fact that he was looking for these. The door had been open. If he really wanted privacy, he would have closed it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I remember that you used to look forward to these,” Remy reminisced, taking one of them to look at. Virgil hummed in thought and touched one of them. It was a crude drawing of two stick figures waving in front of a multicoloured house, behind them was the background, scribbled blue. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(One of them was tall and crooked, another small and squashed. Both with uneven circles for head and half moon smiles. The house was drawn in that way all children learned how to- squares for the wall, triangle for a roof and a door).</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> It was one of the first ones he ever received from the cookies that came in the mail. Virgil could still smell cinnamon and gingerbread clinging to the paper. Although it was faint and fading, like the child whose hand had produced the drawing all those years ago.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> His  fingers pulled away, stained the colour of</span>
  <em>
    <span> clear, beachy summer skies strewn across the horizon.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And Virgil thought</span>
  <em>
    <span> oh- No wonder Preston said that this was Patton’ favourite colour.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...Dad…Can I ask something?” Virgil rubbed his fingers together, spreading the chalky colour further. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How...How long did it take for you to feel okay again after Pa died?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next Chapter: </p>
<p>
  <i>Patton's heart was pounding. He stopped. “You..You’re the one that wanted this…” Perhaps this was what it was like, being in the eye of a hurricane and letting everything just descend into chaos all around him, Patton thought. He took a deep breath. "So you better have a goddamn pen with you,"</i>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>ADDITIONAL WARNING</b> : Past unhealthy relationships, Talks of grief.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Even the sadness of those days, even the pain of those days</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I loved every bit of it, with you by my side</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>In my heart, never coming out, is the bitter smell of lemon</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t go home until the rain lets up</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Lemon</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> - Kenshi Yonezu)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hello?" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before the call connected, Virgil kept idly bouncing his leg. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Up down up down up down</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it was a habit he picked up from (probably) dad whenever he was waiting. However, it immediately stopped when the person at the end of the line picked up. Virgil began to speak, hesitantly at first because come on, who knows if he accidentally dialled the wrong number or something, right?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey, uh, Uncle Pat. It's Virgil." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh hey Kiddo! What can I do for you?" He heard Patton clear his voice. There was a rustling sound, as if Patton had been in bed when his phone rang and now he's getting up. His voice also sounded rather stuffy? For some reason? Like Patton was coming down with a cold. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I was actually gonna ask you if you wanna come over for dinner tomorrow night. Dad said that you might want the company tomorrow," Virgil then added as an afterthought, just in case Patton really was sick, "Though if you couldn't make it or anything, that's cool too."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh… Oh no, I'm fine kiddo. Don't worry about me. I was just- nevermind" There was that sniff again and for a moment, Virgil thought that Patton might decline. However, it turned out he was wrong because Patton then said in a soft voice, "... Actually, Yes. Definitely. I have a guest coming tomorrow but I— Yeah, I think I'd like that, actually. Dinner. How about around 7?" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay then. I'll tell dad. I'll see you tomorrow," </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the Hart residence, Patton had ended the call and slowly sat up. His eyes felt puffy, while he felt rather disoriented, the same kind of disorientation one would feel after an unplanned long nap. The more that he looked at himself, the more that Patton felt that this was the case.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He must have accidentally fallen asleep. Patton only remembered being tired after going around and finalizing some last minute things for the cafe, and immediately falling face down on the bed once he got back. (He probably started snoring even before his cheek hit the pillow). Patton wiped his face, his hand pulling away disgustingly sticky. He blinked, had he been crying while he was asleep? That was a thing he does now?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>However, he made no move to get out of bed just yet. He reached for his phone again because it just lit up. When Patton checked, he started to wonder whether he was cursed or something. What he expected was a message from Remy or literally anyone else turned out to be from the last person he wanted to hear from right now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <span>From: Husband &lt;3</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>To: Me</span>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <span>Message: Thanks for making this easy for us Pat. See you Thursday.</span>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>Received: 9:18pm</span>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The world screeched to deafening silence as Patton read through the message over and over again. Easy?! Is that what this- this asshole was looking for? An easy way to settle things and just </span>
  <em>
    <span>go on his merry way?!?</span>
  </em>
  <span> What the absolute-?!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling very much like a kettle on boil, Patton began furiously scrolling through his contact list. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Husband &lt;3</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Would you like to delete this contact?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <span>&gt;Yes</span>
    </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>&gt;No</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now that that was done, Patton practically threw himself out of bed to storm into the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(“Then why not show it?”)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton grabbed his utensils from cabinets with more force than strictly necessary. He then pushed his glasses further up his nose and got to work.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Butter, flour- </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So that asshole wanted it easy?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>sugar, and where’s the- aha! cinnamon!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton will show him</span>
  <em>
    <span><strong> easy</strong>.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>During a time that felt much too long ago, Patton would have said that mistakes were a part of life. He would have said that compassionately, gently,  while helping a pair of small hands wipe up spilt liquids or clean up paint from the floor after a prank gone awry. And that to make them meant that they were in the process of learning, of doing things a different way until they get it right. He would then kiss those small hands, smile, and life would go on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even when Patton was unsure. Even while grieving.  Even on times where he felt like he was going round in circles- always in motion, but never getting anywhere. He still knew that somehow, someway, life goes on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The very fact that he started baking certain confectioneries again, and started spending more time around Remy and Virgil meant that even to some degree, he was moving on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(The very fact that the man in front of him isn't wearing his wedding band meant that he had </span>
  <em>
    <span>already </span>
  </em>
  <span>moved on.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Patton,” The man thanked, but didn't even touch the plate of cookies in front of him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And really now, wasn’t that rude of him?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton smiled frostily. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Making mistakes meant that they were in the process of learning</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and oh had he learned.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope it’s for the cookies, Alec,” Patton simply said, and for the first time that this man had stepped into his living room that was much too bare, Patton didn’t care about the manila folder on his coffee table, “Because I really didn't do anything. You were the one that offered to come here and settle everything," He gave a little sardonic laugh that meant to grate against Alec’s every last nerve, and Patton was absolutely certain that it did.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yes… The cookies. Thank you for the cookies Patton. They look delicious, as always."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And yet, Patton noticed that he still didn’t get one. So Patton shrugged and reached for one instead. He bit into it with a sharp snap. From the way that Alec flinched in his seat, Patton had thought that he had snapped a spine in half right in Alec’s face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh yes. I suddenly had </span>
  <em>
    <span>such a hankering</span>
  </em>
  <span> for snickerdoodles last night." The smile on Patton's face only grew, and so did the intensity of the artificial sweetness in his voice, "And since I'm expecting a guest, I thought I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>had to</span>
  </em>
  <span> make a fresh batch so we can have something to snack on while we catch up and get the documents signed. You understand, right?" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>" Patton, really-"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Have. one." Patton made it crystal clear that </span>
  <em>
    <span>no, that was not an invitation asshole</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was a challenge. He reveled in the satisfaction of Alec wisely snapped his mouth shut after that. There was a pause, "At least. For one last time. Who knows if it’ll be the last time you'll have Preston's favourite Snickerdoodles again? You certainly don’t know how to make these," </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man in front of him even had the decency to look as if Patton had crawled across the table and slapped him. Maybe Patton had wanted to, he didn't really know. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Under Patton's heavy gaze. The man sheepishly reached out for one and bit down. From the mechanical, awkward way he chewed, (not to mention the expression on his face), Patton would have thought he had forced Alec to chew on glass. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe Patton was being petty. It was only over a phone call after all. He was selfish, all because what, he expected Alec to say something else? Was Patton being self-centered, because he was angry that instead of </span>
  <em>
    <span>"I'm sorry for leaving when you guys needed me most"</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he received </span>
  <em>
    <span>"The papers are ready. Can I come over to get your signature?"</span>
  </em>
  <span> instead? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Deep down, Patton really did want to feel bad for him, to tell himself that he had to be nice and welcoming and understanding for Alec's sake. Because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was trying, Patton. I’m getting help, really</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And so that, according to the bastard, the process of separating would be as painless as possible for the two of them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But really, what use would it be pretending that those words didn't just turn Patton's stomach to lava, Or that it didn't make Patton's tears feel as scorching hot as the sun? He was angry at his ex-partner (now nearly ex-husband’s) callousness. It was simple as that. He was absolutely pissed that instead of trying to make amends, Alec had decided to prod and poke at Patton's wounds by asking him to sign divorce papers not a year after the death of their only son. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And because of that, Patton hoped that Alec would feel his rage burn.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"it's as good as always," He heard Alec say obligingly. Patton sighed at the sheer discomfort that his ex radiated. He could see in the quiver of Alec’s fingers and in the way his eyes refused to meet Patton's that he had let the man stew in guilt and disdain long enough. Finally, finally, to Alec's very apparent relief, Patton relented. He finally lowered his hackles, and his anger simmered down to a mere sizzle in his chest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sorry for acting like a jerk," Patton fiddled with his wedding band. He twisted it round and round a few turns to satisfy his urge to fidget. "That I'm not making this "easy" for both of us. Like you wanted to. But what I'm not—" Patton had immediately silenced him again with piercing honey coloured eyes before Alec could look too relieved, "—Is feeling sorry for being angry, no don't look at me like that— I really aren't. Because you abandoned us, Al." Without Patton realizing, he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "You left Preston. He needed you— No Alec I don't want to hear your excuses! You left me. I needed you and you'd rather go off and get drunk than deal with his death!" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Really, Alec  was lucky that slapping him was the worst thing Patton could have done. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"One day you just disappeared on me and I had to move all the way back to Sidestone before you actually thought of contacting me! And the only time you did was to tell me, hey, we should sign the divorce papers!! So no. I refuse to stop being angry about that!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton's heart was pounding. He stopped. “You..You’re the one that wanted this…” Perhaps this was what it was like, being in the eye of a hurricane and letting everything just descend into chaos all around him, Patton thought. He took a deep breath. "So you better have a goddamn pen with you,"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The deflated look on Alec's face was enough to let Patton know that his words were hitting it's mark. He hadn't given Alec any chances to splutter out excuses after excuses that he had heard before. He ended up shoving Alec out the door before the ink even dried on their divorce papers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alec turned to meet Patton at the doorway, Patton crossed his arm, not trusting himself to restrain from hugging Alec to take away the absolutely heartbroken expression on his face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Thank you, again. For even agreeing to meet me" Alec said, a slight shake in his voice. He knew that he looked like a man that had lost everything. Patton agreed, because he did. Patton knew both of them lost more than a son back in New York. "And you're right… I really, really am sorry for everything," </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"... I hope so," </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The door was shut in his face and that was the last time that Patton Hart ever saw Alec Antoine ever again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton didn't even look through the window when he left. He leaned heavily against the door for a moment or two trying to get his feelings sorted out. He didn't feel bad, but he didn't feel particularly good either. Patton reached for his wallet, opening it momentarily to gaze at a photo he had with him. He remembered it, a breezy autumn day where in a surprising turn of events, he managed to get Preston instead of the other way around. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>("Heheh~ How does it feel to have your Pop pop up on you instead?"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Patton pun had lit up Preston's face even under all the smeared buttercream. It was so radiant. So full of surprise and joy that Patton just had to have photos of the occasion.</span>
  </em>
  <span> )</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He smiled at the memory and glanced at the empty walls of his home. Maybe… Maybe it  was finally time to make his house into a home. Oh but maybe next time. He was invited to dinner, afterall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Patton didn't feel like his divorce was a win. Not for a long time. Not even when Patton adopted a boy that he would call a son years after. But for now, being able to hug Virgil without his heart threatening to tear itself in two from grief that night sure as hell did. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“So...There’s really nothing we can do?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You tell me,” Remy faced his son, adjusting his position after his legs felt a bit cramped after sitting in one position for too long, “Everyone’s different. Of course I was devastated for months, maybe years. Good god I was a mess. I didn’t think I had that much coffee in one day since I was in college.  I was just lucky that...Well, I had you around to not make that time suck more than it already did,”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil felt the back of his neck flare up, not really knowing what to respond. Honestly he felt a bit bashful. Had...Had he helped? He remembered the days back then where they had sat  together and watched Pa’s favorite movies on bad days. Or the days where he latched on tightly to his dad’s hand when they visited the Sidestone cemetery.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, something shifted uncomfortably inside his gut. Wait, what if dad had felt pressured enough to “bounce back” for his sake? That he couldn’t afford to grieve because he had to take care of him…? And that maybe...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>However, those thoughts immediately vanished when Remy’s hand gently touched his head, “Thank you, for being worried about us. But trust me hon, your Uncle Patton will be okay. As long as he gets support from the people that love him, in time it will be okay. Tell you what, let's invite him over for dinner tomorrow,” There was a pause as Remy checked the watch on his wrist, "... I think he'd want some company," </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil had been mulling over Remy’s words before he stilled, “...What makes you think that it’s about him?” His tone was mutinous, but Remy just snickered. Again, his hand found his way onto Virgil’s head. However, the gesture was now more teasing rather than trying to be comforting. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh hon- you really aren’t as slick as you think,”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad. you did NOT,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t,” Remy’s smug face was practically devious as Virgil froze in front of the cafe, “That’s all Patton. I just said yes,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up at the cafe signboard with pride, while Virgil in pure disbelief. Scrawled within the logo of the cafe is the punniest, cheesiest, yet Remy and Patton-est name Virgil could even dream of.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course it is,” Virgil said faintly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Remy! Virgil!” Patton opened the glass door that chimed daintily, “Good morning! Glad to see you made it just in time!” Seeing Virgil’s awestruck expression, an impish smile grew on Patton’s face, “Oh, you never did know what we were going to call the cafe, didn’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep,” Remy snickered, “Give him a minute,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...Well,” Virgil suddenly laughed, partly from disbelief and partly from just how perfect the name was, “It’s...It fits,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Perfectly,” Patton agreed. “Well! Minute’s up! Let’s get to work boys-” He began ushering both father and son into the cafe. “Virgil, be a dear and go grab some balloons and the helium tank from the back will you?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil sighed, but going to do as he was told anyway, since he had promised to help out with their opening day. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Rem-"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Say no more Daddy-O" Remy cut him off, "I'll go get the machine running in a bit. And oh- Pat?" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Yea Remy?" Patton turned to him, fully expecting to receive any instructions or ideas about the baked goods or something. However, Remy just smiled and patted his back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm glad to see that you're starting to feel better," </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His words made a smile, serene yet sad bloom on Patton's lips. He fiddled with his wedding ring again, now attached to a necklace around his neck rather than on his finger. It felt strange, Patton supposed, to not feel the weight and pressure of the ring anymore. But it was something that he could see himself slowly starting to get used to.. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not quite there yet Rems. But yeah… I'm feeling… Good."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Remy nodded, knowing what Patton meant. Both of them will probably never be truly 'okay'. And for now, that would be just fine. They have nothing in the world but time, after all. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee didn’t really know what to expect when Virgil had invited him and his other foster siblings to the cafe opening. It was a pretty casual "Hey you guys should stop by, Dad and Patton would love to have you," invite so Dee had thought it would be low key. That it would be chill and nice, that he and his siblings would look around, grab something tasty and be on their way. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “Coffee Cat?” One of the twins, Toby sounded bemused when he read the cafe name out loud for their little group to hear. His brother Seth had laughed with him, equally delighted at the name. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s really cute though!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, I know we’re all excited but let’s not cause trouble for Mr Sanders,” Pryce corralled the other kids, much to Dee’s relief. At least with him around, Dee might be able to have a chat with Virgil for a bit. He hasn't seen him yet though, thought Dee isn’t particularly pressed about that. Emile had released them into the world and told them they could go and have fun for the weekend. And according to the twins, they planned on fully making use of the day. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee walked around, seeing the display of pastries while his siblings had broken off to their own little group amongst the customers. Pryce had taken the twins to the coffee station and was ordering something to drink. Meanwhile, Brian was not far from them checking out the array of cute, cat eared donuts that they have. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Welcome to the Coffee Cat!” Someone that sounded way, way too cheerful for 9 A.M. greeted him when he was browsing through the pastry selection. Dee saw that the person was loo(ing at him from the display case. He turned slightly to get a better look at the man with his good eye. The man didn’t even react to his scar other than a quick cursory glance. Immediately, Dee had felt less awkward around him. “Is there anything I can get for you kiddo?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh I’m just looking around for now,” Dee then gave the options in front of him more thought, “Actually, a friend of mine said that I could find a cake that I really liked here? He gave me a sample and I thought of trying it again,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The person suddenly brightened as if he had suddenly recognized him, "Oh!!! You wouldn't happen to be Virgil's friend are you? I think he mentioned sharing my brownies with them," </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Dee blinked. Oh. So this is the baker guy that Virgil had talked about. He looked much...Cozier, that what Dee had expected. But it fit him a lot. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"That would be me. You can call me Dee”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you!,” the man rested his hands on top of the case, “I’m Patton. Virgil’s actually in the back. The brownies should be done soon, they’re cooling right now.” There was a pause before Patton asked, “Do you want to try anything else?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean…” Huh. Was there anything that caught his eye? The cupcakes looked nice. So were the cookies. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. Speaking of cookies. Perhaps…?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee’s eyes roamed for a particular one. One that he remembered that his mother absolutely loved. And while the taste of cinnamon wasn’t particularly his favourite, it has been hers. It’s been a while since he had one. Or at least, one as good as he remembered her making.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have any Snickerdoodles?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh…” Dee saw Patton’s face immediately fall, “I’m afraid I haven’t...Added that to the menu yet.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh…” Somehow, a feeling in Dee’s gut told him that he had said something that might be pretty touchy for Patton. Oh well. That’s fine. He can always come back in the future.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are they your favorite?” He heard Patton softly ask. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee shrugged, “Well. Not really. They were my mom’s. It’s been a while since I had one that was as good as hers. Sometimes I like to have it when...You know,” Dee sort of felt uncomfortable saying this, “when I feel like I miss her and stuff” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And no, his voice totally didn’t go quiet or anything shut up.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah…” Dee was about to change his mind and asked for literally anything else before Patton continued, “How did she like them?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Chewy. With lots of cinnamon sugar of course.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee heard Patton chuckle. A sound that was soft, and reminded Dee of warmth by a winter fire and hugs that just wrapped around you. It was a good sound. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, of course. You know, they were my son’s as well…” Dee took one look at the sad smile that graced Patton’s feature and just knew that </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh. Patton knows what it was like too, didn’t he? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“But he kind of liked them with a bit of a snap. But hey, tell ya what kiddo. Since you’re Virgil’s friend, the next time you come over, let me know. I’ll have some fresh ones just for you,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee squirmed and didn’t meet Patton’s gaze. Not to make puns, but he kinda didn’t see that coming. Would Patton really do that for him? What the heck? Virgil didn’t tell him the guy was</span>
  <em>
    <span> that</span>
  </em>
  <span> nice. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If you want to. Thank you...I’ll...I’ll do that,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>What Dee didn't see was how warmth and fondness just flooded into Patton’s smile, or the way that his hand had almost wanted to just reach out and ruffle his hair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dee!!!” Dee jumped as a  chorus of two voices in tandem broke the moment. He found himself with two very energetic 10 year olds that suddenly decided to tackle him in the middle of the freaking cafe. The force of their hug made Dee almost stumble.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look what we got!!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t it cute??? It tastes really good too!! Have some!!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Toby! Seth!” Dee hadn't had the chance to say anything before they heard Pryce coming to his rescue, “Don’t cling to Dee like that. You’ll make him fall,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The twins finally let Dee out of their clutches, showing off what looked like donuts with cat ears (it seemed that the ‘cat’ in Coffee Cat wasn’t just for the pun. They were committed to it) to his face. The one in Seth’s hands was already bitten into, with icing of pink swirls pink and covered in sprinkles were the ones that were offered to him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He heard Patton laugh again, brighter this time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry about them Mr. Hart,” Pryce pulled them together to coralle them, “They’re a bit excited. Lovely cafe by the way! Love the beige and blue!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you boys,” Patton seemed to be very well versed in dealing with children, because he seemed genuinely fine with the ruckus, “It’s been fun getting it to this point! So are these your siblings?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yessir. These three are my foster brothers. Brian went to look at the bread, I think,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh I see! Well, I’ll leave you guys to it then” Patton winked at the twins, “And you two- listen to your brother and </span>
  <em>
    <span>do-nut</span>
  </em>
  <span> run around and cause him trouble!” The twins dissolved into fits of giggles and Patton then turned to Dee, “I’ll just go check on your brownies now alright? If you need anything, just find Remy or anyone in a blue apron,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee nodded, smiling while thanking Patton for his time and service. He hadn’t known it at the time, but the smile had absolutely made Patton’s heart melt. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“So I really can’t stay?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No,” Virgil almost felt the atmosphere of his room get heavier and heavier. He knew that it would go south very very easily, “Preston...You really can’t...The longer you stay here...The harder it will be, for both you and your dad,”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil felt himself shudder at the thought of Preston being ripped into pieces, of the ink from his eyes slowly dripping and consuming him in a void of eternal darkness. Of him mutating and losing the one thing that proved he had been human. The grim possibilities were enough to spur Virgil on. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you remember when you followed me to school?” Virgil let Preston sit next to him on his bed. The ghost hugged his knees, burying his face into his knees, “At the end of the day, what happened?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I caused trouble...I made the lockers slam and stuff...Because..” Preston’s shoulders sagged, “...Because I kept thinking how fun it was in school...And that...I’ll never get to go there, and I really, really wanted to go,”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah…” Virgil said softly, “That’s generally what’s going to happen..That’s why I said that it’s going to be more difficult if you stay.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Then you just want me to leave dad just like that?!” Preston demanded, turning to him with wobbly lips and jet black tears streaming down his cheeks, “I don’t wanna!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Downstairs, he hears the faint pop of a glass bulb shattering. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Blood dripped from Virgil’s nose as he tried to stem it with anything that might help. Virgil ended up having to press his sleeve against his nose and hoped his hoodie wouldn’t get too bloodied up. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Preston…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I already left dad once!! Please don’t make me leave him again!!” The poor child was almost begging him, trying to grab a hold of Virgil’s hoodie, his shoulders, anything. But his hands just slipped right through, “I don’t want to leave him alone!!” He burst out into sobs. Loud, heavy ones that could break even the strongest of hearts. Virgil let him cry out every bit of his frustrations, anger, and sadness until there was nothing left. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Everyone keeps leaving him…” Preston hiccupped, “It feels like I’m the only one that didn’t want to...So please..Why can’t I stay?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We won’t,”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“H-huh?” Preston looked at him, jet black tears were mixed with red and yellow, smelling putrid and acrid, “W-wha?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Preston, me and my dad love your dad.” Virgil explained, with more patience towards a tantruming child than he ever had before, “Whatever happens, I’ll make sure he’ll be okay. He’s an amazing person, and I promise that he’ll be okay. That his love and care for others will be returned in kind and in full.” Again, there was that calmness. That weight on Virgil’s words that made Preston absolutely certain that what Virgil was saying was truth, “And I promise that until the end of his life, that will never change,”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for having us, Virgil,” Dee thanked, as they went home from school the Monday after the cafe opening, “It was fun,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It really was. The cafe had such a welcoming atmosphere, and both owners had been nothing but gracious and kind to his foster siblings. It was a pretty rare treat for all of them to be able to go out together like that, due to their different ages and schedules. And it certainly had been an enjoyable experience.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You guys are welcome any time,” Declan could sense Virgil’s  words were genuine, “And hey, at any time, if you wanna find extra cash to save up, I’ll talk to Patton for you. I’m sure he’ll love the extra hands. Summer, weekend, whatever. He’d understand,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee fell silent for a while, before slowly smiling. This smile was a little more subdued, but more genuine and soft, “I’ll think about it. The opportunity would be really good, actually,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee was actually seriously mulling the offer over as they walked. My, it certainly had been a tempting one. Having a job so early would mean that he could save up much earlier than he expected, plus extra pocket money without having to rely on Emile or Pryce. Yes, it certainly has more benefits than it does drawbacks. And-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Say, Dee?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee was immediately pulled from his thoughts and back into reality.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Pardon- Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil looked thoughtful. Serious even, “Is the thing in your attic still there?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee thought of the way that the hallways of the Picani home looked as if fog had descended upon the floor. The prevalent chilliness that seemed to cling to everyone’s bones if they stayed near the attic ladder for too long. The sense of unease that seemed to plague everyone each time they pass under the attic hatch. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d say so, why?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a moment where Declan saw Virgil mull over his thoughts, before it seemed that he had come to a decision, “Okay. Then let’s do it,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dee still didn’t follow. “...Do...What, exactly?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Both of them had arrived in front of the Picani group home. Dee saw Virgil look up at the small window that one could see through to the attic. Following his line of sight, Declan admitted that the shadow he saw dancing at the edges of the glass did not seem very inviting. Virgil then turned to him, and said something that had sent Dee’s jaw nearly dropping onto the floor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think...We should see what we can do for em,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh Virgil!” Patton had come in after telling Dee he’ll check up on the brownies. His voice made Virigl look up from his tedious task of placing a liner (custom made to have cat ears of course) one at time inside the cupcake tin, “You’re friend’s here!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh. blond, kinda long hair, asking about the brownies and probably have kids with him?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“The very same. Dee right?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah,” Virgil affixed a grin to his face, “He’s cool. His foster brothers are too.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I can see that,” Patton agreed, “You can go ahead when you’re done. Go and spend time with your friends Virge,” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Thanks. I’ll be back soon,”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sanders,” Dee greeted. He was alone. Pryce probably took the twins away by now. Probably outside so they could burn some excess energy from all the sugar in the donuts. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Janus,” He returned, much more mockingly, “Wanna sit outside the patio with me? The brownies still will probably take a while”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’d like that,”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>According to his dad, the best thing Virgil could do for Patton was to give him time. Time to grieve, heal, and move on according to his own terms. And see, Virgil knew it to be true. However, it still didn’t take away from the fact that he had kept worrying about the promises he made, and how it reflected on him if he couldn’t. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But looking at Dee and Patton talking at the counter that day, (yes, he could hear them from the kitchens) and seeing them slowly finding that connection with each other… It made Virgil realize that, well, he had it all wrong. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil had wanted to laugh then. And cry. Maybe both. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(“You know…” He remembered Preston saying that, “Dad deserves so much more. He deserves so much more than people that leave. He deserves...He deserves breakfast in bed. To not have to be the dad all of the time.” Virgil watched as Preston rubbed his small hands together, “He deserves so much more than what he had,”)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He sometimes forgets that just because Pa didn’t have the time they both wanted, it doesn’t mean that it was the same for Patton and Dee. He supposed that’s why he finally stepped back. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(“I promise that he’ll be okay. That his love and care for others will be returned in kind and in full.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(“I swear that Dee will never be alone. That he will be safe and be with people that will care and love him.”)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And hey, Virgil thought as he sat down with Dee outside and looked with the people (both dead and alive) passing by in the sun. Maybe he could actually do something with the things he could see. Maybe, just maybe, </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And when Patton came out to bring Dee his brownies, packed away in a cute box, Virgil would casually say that Dee could come over to the cafe more. Little steps, really. It was fine. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>“And I promise that until the end of his life, that will never change,”</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There was no rush at all.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>THE END</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Epilogue Themesong</b> : <i>Sparkle</i> by RADWIMPS</p>
<p><b>ADDITIONAL WARNINGS</b> : None.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The time finally came</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yesterday seemed nothing more than a prologue to the prologue</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But you can skim through if you wish</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>From here on out is my story</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>(</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Sparkle </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>- RADWIMPS)</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <span>2015</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Within the span of three weeks into the semester, Roman was pretty confident that he was starting to get a hang of college life. Since they were still freshmen and so new to their  classes, there was currently not much they had to do. His first quizzes were still weeks away, and other than minor research for in-class discussions, he was practically a free bird. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Not that he really needed to do any intensive research, he had already impressed his professor during a rousing discussion on Venus and Adonis in his first couple of classes. He’s doing more than okay- Roman thinks, knows, and is sure of it.) </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So you best believe that Roman was making the absolute best use of the current free time he had.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had checked out the theatre club (and joined, </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course.</span>
  </em>
  <span>) and hung out with some of the people he met during his freshman orientation. They were all very nice people, and became fast friends with him. This pleased Roman, since he never really had friends that loved theatre throughout elementary, middle, or high school.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Well, loved it as much as he did.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman hummed a little tune from the last production he did in high school while he grabbed everything. He usually tried to keep it down when his other roommates were in their shared room, but since the others were out for whatever reason, it meant he could indulge in  a song or two while getting ready. It ended with him slinging his messenger bag over his shoulders and heading out of his quad. He had a lecture on the Foundations of Poetry that was in around half an hour, and then the theatre club members had planned on meeting up to discuss potential plays that they would do that year. Roman was definitely going to be there, it would be preposterous for him not to be! And who cares if he’s a freshman? If any of them had problems with a freshman giving ideas and opinions, then </span>
  <em>
    <span>too bad,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Roman flashed a confident grin that felt like it belonged perfectly on his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was 120% certain he could out-act them at any day of the week anyway.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman had a feeling it was going to be a real good day. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Going somewhere, Princey?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well, almost. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman gave an exaggerated sigh when he heard the familiar voice. He almost missed his roommate sitting cross legged on the sofa of their dormitory common room. He had his earbuds in, but turned when Roman passed with phone in hand. That was rather baffling because really, Roman heard his roommate’s music before. He couldn’t help but wonder how his roommate could hear him walking over the sound of...well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(It probably should be said that it wasn’t like Roman hated this particular roommate of his. On the contrary, out of all the other boys he shared the quad with, he had caused the least trouble for Roman. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was just, Dear Zeus- Never in his entire life had he met someone who had so many differing opinions than him. From everything from jam to Disney, they had brandished their opinions like weapons and clashed at every turn. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dogs? Oh nah man, I’m more of a cat person. Why, Smuckers? Why would you bother with that when there’s a perfectly delectable jar of Crofters right there you heathen!? Pokemon? What the hell dude?-</span>
  </em>
  <span> And on and on it went. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Plus, since they had some classes together, Roman has had the “pleasure” of dueling words with him once or twice there as well. Though, those classes were always the most exhilarating. Not that Roman will admit it, of course, even under pain of death.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If it isn’t Hot Topic himself,”  Roman said dryly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw you think I’m hot~” He had replied with an infuriating cheeky tone, making Roman roll his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If you must know, yes, I am going out.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fundamentals of Poetry?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That, and-” Roman first replied sarcastically before allowing excitement to bleed into his voice, “The theatre club is holding a preliminary meeting about future productions- and I just have to attend!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, of course you do,” He turned back to his phone. Roman missed the strange flash of emotion in his roommate’s eyes before his attention was redirected back to his phone. “Have fun I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s a rather proud young man, isn’t he?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The figure next to Virgil pointed it out when Roman had left, making Virgil’s vision spin for a brief moment. He was sitting to Virgil's left, despite floating a couple of inches above the cracked upholstery. His subsequent presence immediately made a section of Virgil’s head pulsate like the beginnings of a minor migraine. Virgil took a deep breath and soon enough, it subsided into a relatively minor ache, perfectly ignorable. It was good that they were alone, at least Virgil didn't need to worry about anyone eavesdropping and subsequently gossipping. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil shrugged, having just sent a text to his dad about his day. Asking about the cafe, updating about his classes, all that normal day to day stuff that was just to make sure he didn't feel too homesick. The screen slightly burned his eyes but Virgil soldiered on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Roman wasn’t the only one that had plans later. Virgil was only there waiting for Dee to finish his classes before they wanted to grab an early dinner together. That and well, hopefully talk about certain...Arising issues. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their law building was across the campus though, so Virgil settled himself for a bit of a wait. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that’s Roman for you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The young man next to him seemed almost bored, even reluctant, “I should have gone to the library instead. At the very least, I could have probably read some books. There’s always people there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Logan, come on dude,” Virgil sighed, turning to the translucent figure, “You heard Roman. The theatre club is already making plans for their production. We have to settle this Remus thing before people get hurt,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan pushed back his glasses and pinned Virgil with a look. Virgil couldn’t quite give a name for it, but it was startlingly similar to the look . (Virgil still wondered if Logan realized how creepy his blank eyes were). His figure flickered in and out of focus, further driving the point that he was justifiably peeved about the whole affair, making a wave of nausea wash over Virgil, “I admit, I had agreed to help. But only because I don’t want him to hurt anyone else. I will not budge from my stance that it was not Remus’ fault in the first place.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And believe me, I’m not saying it is,” Virgil reassured, being fully genuine about it. He knew this was all just a case of winning stupid prizes after playing stupid games. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Literally.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And oh- for the record? </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the reason why Virgil had avoided doing things that might piss the dead off. (Even if Virgil was less avoidant now than he had been in his younger years). It just brings about a whole lot of mess that’s just really difficult to get out of. And cleaning up messes made by a bunch of idiots really wasn’t on his plans for college.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But seriously, we really can’t do it without you L,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logan sighed, ”Well...I suppose you couldn’t. But I shall only do this to help Remus.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Only to help Remus,” Virgil repeated, “And nothing more,” He even tacked on at the end for good measure. That seemed to have appeased Logan for now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The phone in Virgil’s hand then vibrated in his hand and the notification was swiped up in one smooth gesture. Virgil’s eyes scanned the message and got onto his feet. Logan followed suit, standing with picture perfect posture while floating approximately 5 inches off the ground, “That’s Dee. He’ll be waiting for us downstairs”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil zipped up his hoodie while Logan fell into step (well, technically float) beside him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go see what we can do, shall we?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everyone! So this is my entry for the 2020 TS Big Bang organized by the amazing ts-storytime!</p><p> A huge thank you to my paired artist Clover (@conversing-with-satan on Tumblr) for being such an amazing creative partner and for making art that just blew me away the second I laid my eyes on it! They’re amazing, do check their art on Instagram @house.of.clover and give them a follow because I am not kidding when I say they’re talented as HELL. </p><p>This will also never be possible without my beloved small army of betas, Mercury (@ratherstarryeyed on Tumblr), Monty, (Monty’s Cloudy Day) and Thalio (ThalioTP), who had helped me every step of the way even down to the smallest of details. Without Mercury, this will never have turned out as good as it did. Monty was an amazing cheerleader and basically overall amazing human being. And finally, without Thalio's input and his help with plot and ideas, I'm pretty sure I'd never thought of half the stuff I did. (I also apologize for the ungodly hours I keep messaging you all akjdsakjd) You all are the real MVP.</p><p>This is also a Mieruko-chan AU, which is a manga written and drawn by Izumi Tomoki. I was also inspired by Yesterday Upon the Stair by PitViperOfDoom and Lavender For Luck by Lovelylogans. </p><p>If you’re a Boku no Hero Academia fan, YUTS is an amazing MUST READ that will take your breath away with the style, characterization and general storytelling. The fic is just something special, as simple as that. Trust me when I say that the time invested to read through all 60 chapters will be very well worth it. While Lavender For Luck is just a beautifully done story about soulmates and spells and faes that has an extremely special place in my heart. Annalise has crafted one of the best fics I have ever read, and no matter how many times I reread LFL, the magic never seems to wear off or fade.</p><p>So if by the off-chance you find my fic enjoyable, do check out these amazing fics. Without them, this fic would never have come to be.</p><p>Writing this has been a JOURNEY. But it was one I enjoyed immensely, and I hope that you’ll enjoy reading it too :)</p><p>For links to the playlist and art, check out the Masterpost on my Tumblr, @shadowling-guistical</p></blockquote></div></div>
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